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LIFE AND LETTEES 



OF 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 



Portrait of Allstoit. 

From the original by George W. Flagg, N. A. 



THE LIFE AND LETTERS 



OF 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 



JAEED B. FLAGG N.A. S.T.D. 



WITH REPRODUCTIONS FROM ALLSTON' S PICTURES 



LfblHJX 



NEW YORK 
CHAELES SCEIBNEE'S SONS 

MPCCCXCII 



HHa37 



Copyright, 1892, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



TROW DIRECTORY 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANV 

NEW YORK 



■ 

cr'O the memory of Richard H. T>ana, Sr. y without 
whose intelligent and careful labor in gathering 
material for his proposed life of Mlston, I should not 
have begun my work; and to his daughter, {Miss 
7^. Charlotte Dana, without whose encouraging co- 
operation and sympathy, I should neither have begun 
nor finished it, this Biography is gratefully dedicated. 



PREFACE 

The author of this Biography, impelled by repeated re- 
quests of relatives and friends of Allston, has with diffi- 
dence attempted the work, too long delayed, of gathering- 
together such memories, written and verbal, as were still to 
be found, for the purpose of constructing a suitable memo- 
rial of America's great painter. 

Others have preceded me in the work, but for want of ma- 
terial at hand have been obliged to content themselves with 
slight and insufficient records of a life known to be rich in all 
the elements requisite to interest, instruct, and elevate. 

Dunlap, Washington Irving, Mrs. Jameson, Tuckerman, 
Sweetser, Miss Peabody, and E. H. Dana, Jr., have contribut- 
ed valuable outlines, but in no instance has the work been car- 
ried to that measure of fulness which justice to the subject de- 
mands. This conviction of inadequacy in the various sketches 
of Allston's life has given urgency to the request that I should 
undertake the task which would have been done by abler 
hands had the elder Dana lived to fulfil his loving pur- 
pose. From his notes and unfinished manuscripts, together 
with the many and valuable letters which he had gathered, it 
is evident that he intended to leave, as the crowning labor of 
his life, a book worthy of himself and of Allston. 



Vlll PREFACE 

The present is a day of specialties, of classification and 
directness. Philosophy is eliminated from narrative, and re- 
flections, speculative or critical, are out of place in the story of 
a life. How far the canon of criticism enforcing this elimina- 
tion may be carried without overreaching and missing its pur- 
pose, I will not presume to decide ; doubtless it may be carried 
to an objectionable extreme. I have obeyed the edict of the 
critical public in this matter so far as to feel almost like apolo- 
gizing for the measure of my obedience. 

My first plan included the treatment of various questions 
of art, as they would arise naturally in contemplating the 
life of an artist. This I believed would be to carry out the 
design of my predecessor in the work. 

I cannot say that in my forbearance the public has lost 
anything of special value ; but I can say, that in the case of 
the elder Dana such forbearance would have involved great 
loss ; had he lived to finish his Life of Allston, biographical 
narration would have been embellished by the philosophical 
reflections of a mind whose every expression is the embodi- 
ment of intelligence and the evidence of poetic sensibility. In 
familiarizing myself with his work, cut short by death, I 
have been continually impressed with the thought that he 
was, above all others, qualified as Allston's biographer. To no 
other theme could he have brought the fulness of his intel- 
lect, his power of discrimination and analysis, with such lov- 
ing homage. His admiration for Allston was boundless. He 
regarded him as one in whom were centred all high quali- 
ties with the least possible admixture of the earthy. So im- 
bued with a sentiment of exalted esteem, he could devote 



PREFACE IX 

the tribute of his rare scholarship and brilliant imagination 
as a free-will offering to the memory of his distinguished rela- 
tive. 

In studying his notes and plan for the book, I have been 
not only certified of a great loss, but have felt embarrassed 
in the attempt to enter into his labors. I have been oppressed 
with a sense of inability to carry the work to that degree of 
fulness and finish which he had in view. His copious mem- 
oranda and notes have afforded me the greatest assistance. 

From all sources open to me I have gathered and appro- 
priated whatever would add to the completeness and inter- 
est of my work. For assistance obtained from living witnesses 
I am chiefly indebted to Allston's niece, Miss E. Charlotte 
Dana, and his nephew, George W. Flagg. 



LIST OF REPRODUCTIONS FROM 
ALLSTON'S PAINTINGS 

Portrait Of AllstOtl, .... Frontispiece. 

From the original by George W. Flagg, N. A. 

PAGE 

Portrait of Benjamin West, President of the Royal 
Academy, ...... 38 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 

Portrait of Allston's Mother, ... 82 

From the original in the possession of Cornelius Vanderbilt, of New York. 

The Angel Liberating St. Peter from Prison, 94 

From the original study for the large picture now in the Hospital 
for the Insane, Worcester, Mass. 

Portrait of S. T. Coleridge, .... 106 

From the original in the National Portrait Gallery, London. 

Outline Sketch of Two Angels in "Jacob's Dream/' 132 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 



Unfinished Portrait of Allston by Himself when 
a Young Man, 160 

In the possession of R. Charlotte Dana, of Boston. 

The Stoning of St. Stephen, . . . . iqo 

From the original sketch in the possession of Jared B. Flagg, of New York. 

Dead Man Revived by Touching the Bones of the 
Prophet Elijah, 210 

From the original in the possession of the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts. 

Jeremiah Dictating his Prophecy of the Destruction 
of Jerusalem to Baruch the Scribe, . . 246 

From the original in the Art Gallery of Yale College. 

Dido and Anna, 270 

From the original sketch in the Boston Museum of Art. 

Swiss Scenery, 300 

From the original in the possession of Thornton K. Lothrop, of Boston. 

The Sisters, 318 

From the original in the possession of Thornton K. Lothrop, of Boston. 

Belsba^ar's Feast, , 334 

From the original study for the large unfinished picture in the 
Boston Museum of Art. 



Outline Sketch of Titania's Fairy Court, . 350 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 

The Sibyl— Outline in Chalk, . . . 380 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 

A Marine in Chalk, 400 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 

Uriel in the Sun, 424 

From the original in the possession of the Duke of Sutherland. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 

PAda 

Allston's Parentage. — His Childhood. — School-days in Charles- 
ton and Newport.— Acquaintance with King and Malbone.— 
Entrance at Harvard College, 1 



CHAPTER II. 

Allston's College Life at Cambridge and Early Letters. — His 
Picture "The Buck's Progress."— Appointed Class-poet and 
Graduates with Honor. — Leonard Jarvis's Recollection of 
Him, 12 



CHAPTER III. 

Return to Charleston.— Departure for Europe. — Student Life 
in London.— Difference between Allston and Malbone. — 
Acquaintance with Fuseli. — Exhibition at Somerset House, 32 

CHAPTER IV. 

First Impressions of London given in Letters to Fraser and 
Knapp. — Contrast between Luxury and Squalor.— Social in- 
equality. — West's Rank as a Painter. — Fuselt, Opie, North- 
cote, and Trumbull, 42 



xii CONTENTS 



CHAPTER V. 

PAGE 

With Vanderlyn in Paris. — Impressions of the Old Masters. — 
His Preference for the Great Venetians. — Theories of 
Painting. — Journey to Italy. — Studious Application to 
Work.— Raphael and Michael Angelo 55 



CHAPTER VI. 

Irving in Allston's Studio.— His Desire to become a Painter. — 
His Sketch of Allston. — Particulars of their Intimacy. — 
" Belshazzar's Feast." — Allston's own Description of his 
Design.— "Jacob's Dream."— Success in England, . . .67 

CHAPTER VII. 

Letter from Coleridge. — London again. — Return to Boston. — 
Marriage. — Return to Europe with Morse. — Morse's Opin- 
ion of Allston, 76 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Painting and Purchase of "The Angel Releasing St. Peter 
from Prison." — Allston's Skill in Perspective. — Appreci- 
ative Letters from Sir George Beaumont and Thomas 
Appleton.— Curious Fate of the Picture, 89 

CHAPTER IX. 

" The Dead Man Revived by Touching the Bones of the Pro- 
phet Elisha." — Allston's own Description of the Picture. — 
Making Clay Models for the Work. — Takes the First Prize 
of Two Hundred Guineas when Exhibited at the British 
Institution. — Allston's Sickness and Visit to Bristol, . . 96 



CONTENTS xiii 

CHAPTER X. 

PAGE 

The Portrait of Coleridge. — Allston's own Opinion op it.— 
Wordsworth's Judgment. — What the London " Guardian " 
said.— Allston's Appreciation op Coleridge's Genius, . . 104 

CHAPTER XI. 

Mrs. Allston's Death.— Her Funeral.— The Cavern Scene from 
"Gil Blas." — Allston's Charity. — Letter from his Class- 
mate, Jarvis. — Coleridge's Letter of Condolence. — His 
Views on the War between England and the United 
States, 109 

CHAPTER XII. 

Sale of "The Dead Man Revived" to the Pennsylvania Acad- 
emy of Fine Arts. — Allston's Affection for England. —Let- 
ter Explaining Allston's Reason for Declining to Paint a 
Picture from his Sketch of "Christ Healing." — "The Cav- 
ern Scene" Purchased Immediately, 118 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Allston's Second Visit to Paris, with Leslie and Collins. — Gift 
to Coleridge, and its Appreciation. — "Uriel in the Sun" 
takes the highest prize at the exhibition of the british 
Institute. — Leslie's Opinion of "Elijah in the Desert." 
"Jacob's Dream." — Mrs. Jameson's Description of it. — Lines 
by Wordsworth, 126 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Allston's Final Return to America. — Letters of Earnest Pro- 
test Agalnst his Leaving England. — Election as an Asso- 



xiv CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ciate of the royal academy. —warm letters from collins 
and Leslie, 135 



CHAPTER XV. 

Letters of the Year 1819— from G. C. Verplanck, C. R. Leslie, 
Sir George Beaumont, and Allston, 146 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Letters of 1820 to 1824 from Allston and Leslie, . . . . 1G2 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Letters by Henry Greenough Describing the Technical Side 
of Allston's Art. — His Method of Painting. — His Palette 
and Theory of Color. — How he Obtained Luminousness in 
Flesh Tints.— Value of the Old Masters for Inspiration 
and Instructing. — Allston' '. Letter of Instruction for 
Thomas Cole, . 181 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Letters from 1826 to 1830. — Beginning of Cogdell Correspond- 
ence. — Allston's Letters to Cogdell, Verplanck, and Les- 
lie.— Horatio Greenough and Leslie to Allston, . . . 208 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Correspondence between Allston and Verplanck in Relation 
to Paintings for the Capitol at Washington, 1830. — All- 
ston's Second Marriage and Settlement in Cambridgeport. 
— Account of his Daily Life and Habits. — His Liberality in 
Religion, 228 



CONTENTS xv 



CHAPTER XX. 

PAGE 

The "Jeremiah." — Its Exhibition in Boston. — Letters op 1830 
to 1832, to McMurtrie, Verplanck, and Cogdell, . . . 247 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Letter from Edward Everett.— Correspondence in Relation to 
Painting an Historical Picture for South Carolina. — Let- 
ters to Sully, Leslie, and J. Mason. — Letter to Leonard 
Jarvis on Greenough's Statue of Washington, . . . 263 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Vindication of Allston agalnst Accusations of Indolence. — Ex- 
tract from Draft of a Letter from Allston to Dunlap. — 
Extract from Memoranda of R. H. Dana, Sr., .... 277 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Letters from 1835 to 1838. — Allston to Cogdell, Comments on 
Art.— Correspondence between Allston and the Congres- 
sional Committee. — Final Decision not to Accept the Com- 
mission GIVEN HIM BY THE GOVERNMENT, 285 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Mrs. Jameson's Praise of the Allston Exhibition in Boston in 
1839. — Letter of Allston to his Mother concerning this 
Exhibition. — Death of his Mother. — Letters to Cogdell and 
McMurtrie, 298 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Allston's Letters during the Last Years of his Life: To 
Count Raczynski, on German Art ; to McMurtrie and Cog- 



xvi CONTENTS 

Pi.GE 

dell. — Exhibition op "Spalatro" in Charleston, S. C. — 
Charles Frasers Opinion of the Work.— Letters to Leslie 
and to the Widow of Dr. William Ellery Channing, . . 31G 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

Death of Allston.— His Sudden and Painless Passing Away. — 
Account of R. H. Dana, Jr., 329 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

First Inspection of "Belshazzar." — Technical Account of it by 
John Greenough. — Attempts at Restoration. — Tragic In- 
fluence of the Work on Allston's Life. — Its Present Po- 
sition, 334 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Recollections of Washington Allston by R. H. Dana, Jr. — His 
Preference of Reynolds to Vandyke.— Opinions on the Old 
Masters, and Various other Subjects, 354 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Letters on Allston to R. H. Dana, Sr., from Wordsworth; 
William Cullen Bryant; C. R. Leslie, R.A. ; W. F. Collard; 
William Collins, R. A. ; Professor Henry Reed ; Colonel 
William Drayton ; W. Y. Dearborn ; Charles Frazer, and 
Joshua H. Wayward, . . . 3G8 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Letters from Horatio Greenough Eulogizing Allston's Char- 
acter and Commenting on his Works. — A Letter from W. W. 
Story, Supplemented by a Tribute to Allston in Verse, . 383 



CONTENTS xvil 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

PAGE 

Allston's Poetry and other Literary Work. — Extracts and 
Comments. — " Rosalie." — "America to Great Britain."— Son- 
nets.— "Sylphs of the Seasons. "— u The Paint-king. "—Com- 
parison OF OSTADE AND RAPHAEL. — "MONALDI." — APHORISMS, . 394 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Allston's Originality. —His Sympathetic Feeling for the Old 
Masters.— Sources of nis Embarrassments. — His Great Nat- 
ural Gifts and Great Attainments. — Unfortunate Distri- 
bution and Arrangement of His Works, 419 

Index, 427 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 



CHAPTER I. 

ALLSTON^S PARENTAGE. — HIS CHILDHOOD. — SCHOOL-DAYS IN CHARLES- 
TON AND NEWPORT. — ACQUAINTANCE WITH KING AND 3IALB0NE. 
— ENTRANCE AT HARVARD COLLEGE. 

The South Carolina AUstons trace their descent from a baro- 
nial family in the Norse settlement in Northumberland. Their 
immediate ancestor, John, who adhered to the fortunes of the 
Duke of Monmouth in his unsuccessful rebellion, to escape 
his leader's sad fate, probably, came over about the year 1685, 
and settled in the rich rice country bordering the >Yaccamaw 
River, where he and his descendants became a wealthy and influ- 
ential family. About the same time there emigrated to Carolina, 
and settled in St. James" Parish, Berkley, James Moore, a grand- 
son, as tradition tells, of the brilliant and famous Roger Moore 
(or More), leader of the Irish rebellion of 1641. He was made 
Governor of the colony in 1700. He married the only child of a 
former Governor, Sir Joseph Teamans, Bart., by whom he had a 
son, James, who was also made Governor in 1719, having before 
then, as commander of the forces of the colony, gained great dis- 
tinction in wars against the Indians. Ramsey, in his " History 
of South Carolina," says of Colonel Moore : " He was a man 
excellently qualified for being a popular leader in perilous adven- 
tures ; in every new enterprise he had been a volunteer, and in 
all his undertakings was resolute, steady, and inflexible." 



2 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

His son John married Rachel Yilleponteux, a Huguenot 
lady. Their son John married Elizabeth Yanderhorst, also a 
Huguenot, and their daughter, Rachel Moore, was the mother of 
Washington Allston. This last-named John Moore became very 
rich, which was proven, as well as his patriotism, by his lending 
the government, for carrying on the War of Independence, the 
very considerable sum, in those times, of fourteen thousand 
pounds, in gold. His three daughters are mentioned in a histor- 
ical scrap as among the most beautiful women of the colony, and 
the excellent portrait of Rachel (habitually called by the petit 
nom of "Cettie," as others of her family were), now owned by her 
descendant, Miss Helen Allston, of Charleston, shows that she 
certainly merited the compliment. She was married January 
19, 1775, to William Allston, son of John and Deborah, a 
captain in the war, and a widower at the time, having two sons 
by a former wife. He is mentioned in James's "Life of Marion" 
in these terms : 

"During the struggle of the year 1781, Captain William 
Allston, of True Blue, on Little River, All Saints Parish, served 
under Marion. He was a firm patriot and good soldier ; indeed 
he may well be enumerated among the martyrs to the cause of 
his country." 

The children of this marriage were — Mary, born in 1778; 
Washington, whose birth is registered in the family Bible thus : 
"My son Washington was born Friday night, half after eleven 
o'clock, the fifth of November, 1779," and William Moore, born 
1781. 

Mrs. Allston, having had a French grandmother on the 
father's side and a French mother, was, as to blood, three- 
fourths French. Charleston was largely peopled with Huguenot 
refugees in those times ; her aunt, Elizabeth Moore, was married 
to one of them, a gentleman named Neufville (corrupted since to 
Neville), and of the loves of a son of theirs and his cousin 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 3 

Rachel, a story lias come down which may properly be related 
here, since such readers as may become interested in the life of 
her son may want to know something of the mother. Early in 
their lives the two cousins, much thrown together during child- 
hood, as we may presume, became lovers, and when young Neuf- 
ville, as was usual with scions of the Carolina aristocracy, was sent 
to England to be educated, they were affianced lovers, expecting 
to be united when he should have completed his studies and made 
the tour of Europe. It would not have been strange if so long a 
separation and the many attractions and allurements besetting 
a youth abroad in the world had weakened the ties of first love, 
so far as the man was concerned, though, as will be seen, the 
woman was true. Certain it is that his letters became less and 
less frequent, and finally ceased altogether ; there was a report of 
his death when the eligible and attractive widower Allston began 
to pay her attentions. She repelled them, of course ; but her 
parents, and especially her mother, strongly desired the match, 
and so strongly seconded the cause of the suitor that Rachel 
finally yielded, though not until after she had been made to be- 
lieve that Neufville was dead. 

As was usual with planters on the Waccamaw River, Captain 
Allston had both a "plantation house" near his rice-fields and a 
" sea-shore house " not far distant, where was found in summer- 
time a refuge from heat as well as malaria. Opposite this last, 
in the spring of 1778, and after his family had been removed to 
it, a ship was wrecked. The crew took to the boats and pulled 
for the shore, where storm-driven waves rolling up a level beach 
made breakers of such height as to render their chances of safe- 
ly " beaching " desperate. All but one perished in the attempt. 
He, not a sailor, but a passenger, when he had clambered out of 
the surf, made his way to the nearest habitation. In answer to 
his inquiries, the servants who admitted him informed him it 
was the house of Captain Allston, who was not then at home, 



4 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

but said that they would inform their mistress. Soon the door 
of the room in which he was waiting opened and the mistress en- 
tered. He gazed at her in speechless astonishment. She started 
back, and uttering the name of him who she thought was sleeping 
with the dead in a distant land, fell to the floor in a swoon. When 
she recovered, Neufville had left the house, and shortly after tid- 
ings were received of his death from yellow fever in Charleston. 

This narrative reads so like a conventional romance that it is 
difficult to credit it as a record of facts ; yet such it is. An ex- 
perience so impressive could not fail to exert a lasting influence. 
We may assume that it did much to chasten, much to establish 
that poise of character, and to develop those high qualities of 
womanhood for which the mother of Washington Allston was 
conspicuous. Self-reliance, tender-heartedness, frankness, gen- 
erosity, and firmness were characteristics she bequeathed to her 
progeny. 

In 1781 Captain Allston, on his return from the famous bat- 
tle of Cowpens, was seized with a mysterious illness, from which 
he died. It was believed he was poisoned by a trusted servant. 
Just before his death, at his request, the infant Washington 
was brought to his bedside; he then uttered these prophetic 
words: " He who lives to see this child grow up will see a great 
man." The young mother cherished the prediction of the 
dying father as a sacred legacy. Every incident of Washing- 
ton's childhood indicating genius would recall the words of the 
sick-room in corroboration of her ambition and expectations 
regarding him. It was a voice from the borders of the spirit 
world, a solemnly impressive and true prophecy of his future 
greatness. She never doubted it, and she reared him as in the 
light of that prophecy. How far the reflex influence of her 
mind thus biassed was an element in the development of his 
character, we cannot tell, and yet we may not reasonably ignore 
or deny it. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 5 

The spring after Captain Allston's death, Lord Cornwallis 
selected as his head-quarters the plantation of the Widow All- 
ston, and, with his staff, took up his abode in her house. His 
Lordship and officers were extremely gallant and courteous, con- 
ducting themselves rather as gentlemen on a visit to a friend 
than as representatives of a hostile army in the house of one 
of the enemy. The utmost consideration and deference were 
shown in the endeavor to conform to the customs of the house ; 
nothing on the premises was injured, and the widow was pleased 
by their gentle and considerate deportment. One day at dinner, 
having learned through the servants that there was an infant in 
the house named Washington, his Lordship politely requested 
the young mother to present them to the little general ; she 
assented, and the child was carried around the table, receiving 
the admiration and playful caresses of all present. 

Born on a Southern plantation Allston was surrounded by 
influences favorable to the development of that ideality which was 
so richly manifested in his life. The pet of the negroes on a 
large plantation undergoes a novitiate, in barbaric magic and 
superstition, potential in the highest degree in developing im- 
agination and fancy. The boy Washington was sensible and 
sturdy enough to be able to listen without injury to stories of 
ghosts and goblins in which the African delights. The Southern 
negro is never so happy as when relating to infantile gentry 
legends and myths to startle and alarm. No training could be 
more effective in peopling the shades of night with spectral 
forms to terrify, than that to which this child of genius was sub- 
jected. The love of the dramatic and tragic which was ever a 
conspicuous element in his character ; that ideality that was con- 
tinually reaching for and presenting visions of the invisible ; 
that love of imagery in the realms of the spectral and super- 
natural ; in short, the tendency toward the marvellous, not only 
of his brush but of his pen and conversation, it is not too much 



6 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

to say was in great part a legitimate result of the influence of 
the negroes acting upon his highly imaginative nature. In later 
years, while repeating the ghost stories learned in his childhood, 
he would say that the excitement he experienced in being fright- 
ened by those stories was delightful to him. He craved excite- 
ment, and to such a degree that, even though mingled with fear, 
it did not lose its relish. There was in him an affinity for the 
purely ideal which belongs not to ordinary minds, but is the 
property of the true poet. 

The current of the talent of which he partook so largely can 
be traced back many generations to a distinguished Dutch an- 
cestor, Yanderhorst, a contemporary of Rubens, who was famous 
as an illustrator of books, and associated with the great artist in 
that work. 

Dr. Henry C. Flagg was chief of the medical staff of Greene's 
army ; he was the son of a wealthy shipping merchant of New- 
port, R. I., in her days of commercial prominence. He remained 
in the South after the war, and the widow of Captain Allston 
became engaged to him, much against the wishes and Southern 
prejudices of her family. Her mother considered the officers of 
Greene's army a set of Northern adventurers, socially, and in 
every way beneath the gentry of the South. The landholders — 
the Southern planters — were regarded by themselves as the 
aristocracy, the nobility of the country. They sent their sons to 
the North to be educated, it is true ; but learning alone could 
not give that social elevation which is based on ownership of 
land. Mrs. Moore was so imbued with this arrogant spirit that 
she bitterly opposed her daughter's marriage to a Northern 
officer. It was not the personality of the suitor, but his birth 
and origin to which she objected. To her earnest remon- 
strances Mrs. Allston replied that she had married once to please 
her family, and she was now determined to please herself. This 
persistence was at the cost of her patrimony. After marrying 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 7 

thus against the will of her family, her father said she had mar- 
ried a Yankee adventurer, and poverty should be her portion. 

Dr. Flagg, the step-father of Washington Allston, manifested 
the deepest interest in his early training. He placed him at 
Mrs. Colcott's school, in Charleston, where he was thoroughly 
grounded in rudimentary studies. As a punishment for some 
offence the school-mistress once placed him in solitary confine- 
ment. After two hours, hearing no demonstrations of penitence, 
she opened the door of the room where he was confined, and 
found him drawing a ship on the bottom of a wooden chair with 
a piece of chalk. She was so pleased with this drawing that she 
kept the chair locked up during her life, occasionally showing it 
as a memento of the early days of the great artist. 

In relation to the first evidence of his artistic talent, Allston 
writes : " To go back as far as I can, I remember that I used to 
draw before I left Carolina, at six years of age (by the way no 
uncommon thing) ; and still earlier, that my favorite amusement, 
much akin to it, was making little landscapes about the roots of 
an old tree in the country, meagre enough, no doubt ; the only 
particulars of which I can call to mind were a cottage built of 
sticks, shaded by little trees, which were composed of the small 
suckers (I think so called), resembling miniature trees, which I 
gathered in the woods. Another employment was the convert- 
ing the forked stalks of the wild ferns into little men and 
women, by winding about them different-colored yarn. These 
were sometimes presented with pitchers made of the pomegran- 
ate flower. These childish fancies were straws by which, per- 
haps, an observer might have guessed which way the current 
was setting for after-life. And yet, after all, this love of imita- 
tion may be common to childhood. General imitation certainly 
is ; but whether adherence to particular kinds may not indicate 
a permanent propensity, I leave to those who have studied the 
subject more than I have to decide." 



8 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

"But even these delights would sometimes give way to a 
stronger love for the wild and marvellous. I delighted in being 
terrified by the tales of witches and hags, which the negroes 
used to tell me, and I well remember with how much pleasure I 
recalled these feelings on my return to Carolina ; especially on 
revisiting a gigantic wild grape-vine in the woods, which had 
been the favorite swing for one of these witches." 

While at school in Charlestown he learned to prepare oil 
colors, and in his vacations locked himself in his room, where he 
commenced a picture of the eruption of Vesuvius. When this, 
his first effort in oil was shown, his family were so surprised by 
its excellence that they feared lest he might disgrace them by 
becoming a painter. His step-father, thinking to overcome this 
dangerous tendency, sent him to Newport to prepare for college, 
under the tuition of a Mr. Rogers. This course, however, instead 
of turning him from the pursuit of art, only confirmed him in 
his determination to be an artist. 

Of his youth, Allston writes : "I concluded my last letter 
with the amusement of my childhood, my next step will be to 
my boyhood. My chief pleasure now was in drawing from 
prints, of all kinds of figures, landscape and animals. But I 
soon began to make pictures of my own ; at what age, however, 
I cannot say. The earliest compositions that I can remember 
were the storming of Count Roderick's castle, from a poor 
(though to me delightful) romance of that day, and the ' Siege 
of Toulon.' The first in India ink, the other in water-colors. I 
cannot recall the year in which they were done. To these suc- 
ceeded many others, which have likewise passed into oblivion. 
Though I never had any regular instructor in the art (a circum- 
stance, I would here observe, both idle and absurd to boast of), 
I had much incidental instruction, which I have always through 
life been glad to receive from anyone in advance of myself. And, 
I may add, there is no such thing as a self-taught artist, in the 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 9 

ignorant acceptation of the word ; for the greatest genius that 
ever lived must be indebted to others, if not by direct teaching, 
yet indirectly through their works. 

"I had, in my school-days, some of this latter kind of in- 
struction from a very worthy and amiable man, a Mr. King, of 
Newport, who made quadrants and compasses, and occasionally 
painted portraits. I believe he was originally bred a painter, 
but obliged, from the rare calls upon his pencil, to call in the aid 
of another craft. I used at first to make frequent excuses for 
visiting his shop to look at his pictures ; but finding that he 
always received me kindly, I went at last without any, or rather 
with the avowed purpose of making him a visit. Sometimes I 
would take with me a drawing, and was sure to get a kind word 
of encouragement. It was a pleasant thing to me, some twenty 
years after this, to remind the old man of these little kind- 
nesses." 

In Newport Allston made the acquaintance of Malbone, the 
foremost miniature painter of his day, of whom he writes : "I 
became acquainted with Malbone but a short time before he 
quitted Newport, a circumstance which I then remember regret- 
ting exceedingly, for I looked up to him with great admiration ; 
our not meeting earlier was owing, I suppose, to his going to 
another school, and being some years older than myself. I 
recollect borrowing some of his pictures on oiled paper to copy." 

The new influence exerted over young Allston by these men 
tended to confirm him more and more, and to aid him in his in- 
extinguishable purpose. Moreover, the scenery about Newport, 
so grandly different from that of the low country of South Caro- 
lina, in which his childhood was passed, stimulated his imagina- 
tion and developed still further his taste for painting. 

While in Newport, engaged in his preparatory studies, he 
was a favorite in the best society ; there he met the sister of the 
celebrated Unitarian clergyman, Dr. William Ellery Charming. 



10 WASHINGTON- ALLSTON 

This lady, to whom he became engaged, exerted a very strong 
influence upon his after-course. Channing entered college a 
year before Allston,and in " Dana's Memoranda" we find the fol- 
lowing interesting extracts of letters written him by Allston at 
that time : 

" The first letter," says Mr. Dana, " is without date, and re- 
lates a dream which Allston had, of walking slowly on the hill in 
Newport, and seeing a spacious mansion, overshadowed by a 
lofty elm — nature and art in rivalry set all off with bowers and 
woodbine — a fair lady in a bower, who blushes at seeing him, 
then comes forward, and he falls upon his knees before her, 
while she confesses to having perceived an attachment. 

" At the close, he says : ' Give my love to Ned, and tell him 
that I have at last finished " Mount Vesuvius." ' On the back of 
the letter is written ' Sophomore,' which doubtless refers to C.'s 
year at college. This letter shows somewhat of the after-man, 
extremely youthful in character as it is ; however, boys were 
truly boys in those days ; but then what men they made ! 

" In a letter dated March 22, 1795, from Newport, he says : 
' My temper is naturally quick and resentful for a few minutes, 
but, believe me, in the cooler time of reflection I repine in secret 
if I have offended. I wish to make reparation, but a foolish 
pride, which too many think honorable, stops me and obliges me 
to do a thing which I inwardly abhor.' 

" In June, 1795, he writes : 'I am sorry to tell you that I 
am disappointed of my expectation of seeing you at Cambridge 
as a fellow-student, as my father-in-law has fixed on Provi- 
dence College. Mr. Taylor, contrary to our expectation at his 
entrance, as usher, is generally esteemed, and resembles Mr. 
Hawes more than any tutor we have had since the departure 
of that grave-comic-foolish-wise man. Apropos, I think it my 
duty to warn you to guard your heart against the fatal shaft 
of Cupid, which has so often left dreadful monuments of its 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 11 

triumph by the temptation of minds which, — " 0, horribile dictu, 
mihi frigidus horror membra quatit, gelidusque coit formidine 
sanguis." Shall I proceed, or shall I forbear? Well, now my 
emotion has subsided, I will proceed, and without keeping you 
in further suspense ; you must know that Eben Richardson, that 
wonderful luminary of Newport City, has fought a terrible battle 
with that little devil Cupid, who has vanquished him (though 
not past recovery) with a dose of ratsbane. But poor Eben, 
repenting after the battle, declared his defeat, and begged assist- 
ance of the doctor.' 

" To the same, December 19, 1795, he says : ' I would not 
willingly hurt any human being, much less one whom I had 
called my friend.' (I remember bis once telling me that when 
at Newport he was fond of shooting, but that having once 
wounded a bird, and being obliged to wring its neck to put it 
out of pain, he never fired at another.) 

" In the same letter he says, ' I thank you for the satisfaction 
you express at my intention of entering Cambridge.' He then 
asks for a particular account of the examination, ' and what parts 
of the Greek Testament and Cicero' he had better study." 

Upon the completion of his preparation he entered Harvard. 
His course under Mr. Rogers had been so thorough that the 
college curriculum made but small demands upon his time, so 
that he was enabled to devote several leisure hours daily to 
painting. 



CHAPTEE II. 

ALLSTON's COLLEGE LIFE AT CAMBRIDGE AND EARLY LETTERS. — HIS 
PICTURE "THE BUCK'S PROGRESS." — APPOINTED CLASS-POET AND 
GRADUATES WITH HONOR. — LEONARD JARVIS'S RECOLLECTION OF 
HIM. 

At Cambridge Allston renewed his acquaintance with Mal- 
bone, of whom he says : " When I entered college I found him 
established in Boston. He had reached the maturity of his 
powers, and was deservedly ranked the first miniature painter of 
the country. Malbone's merits as an artist are too well known 
to need setting forth by me ; I shall therefore say but few words 
on that head. He had the happy talent among his many excel- 
lencies of elevating the character without impairing the likeness ; 
this was remarkable in his male heads ; and no woman ever lost 
any beauty from his hand ; nay, the fair would often become still 
fairer under his pencil. To this he added a grace of execution 
all his own. My admiration of Malbone induced me at this 
time to try my hand at miniature, but it was without success, 
I could make no hand of it ; all my attempts in this line being 
so far inferior to what I could then do in oil that I became dis- 
gusted with my abortive efforts and I gave it up. One of these 
miniatures, or rather attempts at miniatures, was shown me sev- 
eral years later, and I pronounced it 'without promise,' not 
knowing it to be my own work. I may add, I would have said 
the same had I known it. I may observe, however (for I know 
not why I should not be as just to myself as to another person), 
that I should not have expressed a similar opinion respecting 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 13 

its contemporaries in oil, for a landscape with figures on horse- 
back, painted about this time, was afterward exhibited at the 
Somerset House." 

" My leisure hours at college were chiefly devoted to the pen- 
cil, to the composition equally of figures and landscapes ; I do 
not remember that I preferred one to the other ; my only guide 
in the choice was the inclination of the moment. There was an 
old landscape at the house of a friend in Cambridge (whether 
Italian or Spanish I know not) that gave me my first hints in 
color in that branch : it was of a rich, deep tone, though not by 
the hand of a master — the work, perhaps, of a moderate artist, 
but one who lived in a good age, when he could not help catch- 
ing something of the good that was abroad. In the coloring of 
figures the pictures of Pine, in the Columbian Museum in Bos- 
ton, were my first masters. Pine had certainly, as far as I recol- 
lect, considerable merit in color. But I had a higher master in 
the head of Cardinal Bentivoglio, from Vandyke, in the college 
library, which I obtained permission to copy one winter vaca- 
tion. This copy of Vandyke was by Smybert, an English 
painter, who came to this country with Dean, afterward Bishop, 
Berkeley. At that time it seemed to me perfection, but when I 
saw the original, some years afterward, I found I had to alter 
my notions of perfection. However, I am grateful to Smybert 
for the instruction he gave me — his work rather. Deliver me 
from kicking down even the weakest step of an early ladder." 

There is an incident of interest connected with this copy of 
Vandyke which we may in passing venture to give. When Cop- 
ley sent out to be exhibited in the Boyal Academy his picture 
of a boy wearing a turban, Sir Joshua Reynolds said to Mr. 
West, "The man who painted that picture has studied Van- 
dyke." West replied that he could assure him the man had 
never seen a Vandyke. Both statements were true, for while 
Copley had never seen an original Vandyke, he had diligent- 



14 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

ly studied this copy by Smybert, which had so captivated 
Allston. 

Allston showed early in life that his powers were not con- 
fined to landscape or graver subjects of a historical character. 
While in college he drew some very ludicrous things in water- 
colors, among them were several in a series entitled a " Buck's 
Progress," of which Mr. R. H. Dana gives the following descrip- 
tion : 

"Dr. Harris, Librarian of Harvard College, owns the ' Buck's 
Progress.' It was suggested by Hogarth, no doubt, and is in 
three pieces. No. 1. The reddish, lank-haired Buck's introduc- 
tion to the town bucks at a carousal, in which he appears in the 
character of a country bumpkin. No. 2. In his room under the 
hands of his hairdresser ; a shoemaker, a very good likeness of 
old Prior of Newport, who made shoes in Allston's, and, in my 
school-boy days, for all good Master Rogers's school boarders 
and most of the rest of the school. He is taking the measure of 
the Buck's foot, and he, in raising it, has upset a chair and 
a bottle of wine and a glass, the wine running over. Out of 
another bottle he is helping himself to a glass of wine. There 
is a tailor in the scene, and another person untying the Buck's 
cravat, which, after the fashion of that time, is as big as a hair- 
dresser's towel. No. 3. Midnight fray with the watchman, and, 
coarsely as they are all executed, done with a good deal of spirit. 
The moon, just rising behind the lofty buildings which lie in 
shadow, the light from the lantern in front of the tavern, and 
shining on the brawlers below, show, even then, when a boy 
freshman, that he had some notion of the effect of light and 
shadow. The tall houses in shadow are not wanting in some- 
thing like grandeur of effect." 

" With his intimate friends he used to amuse himself with 
getting up caricatures and many other odd and humorous things. 
The southwest room of the old mansion in which he lived was 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 15 

then an unfinished apartment, ' filled in ' with brick, and was 
the scene of a great deal of fine foolery, sometimes to the amuse- 
ment of the whole family, old and young." 

Allston graduated with honor and was appointed poet of his 
class. His genial nature endeared him to his classmates, by 
whom he was regarded with that reverent and generous consid- 
eration which is the free-will offering to genius. Full of the 
buoyancy of health and the impetuous ardor of youth, he was in 
sympathy with the rollicking rashness of the average student, 
ready for the tricks and sports incident to college life ; but never 
to a degree that obliterated that subtle, indefinable influence 
which, as a halo, encircles gifted spirits, who, though physically 
upon the common plane, are, in those higher qualities which make 
up the essential man, above their fellows. As different associa- 
tions and interests separated Allston's classmates in divergent 
walks of life, this sense of his ideal superiority went with them. 
Evidences of affectionate and high appreciation were constantly 
given by those who in school or college had enjoyed the in- 
fluence of his companionship, and in later years the common 
suffrage found expression in Irving's memorable tribute to his 
character. 

We give here a few of Allston's letters during his college life 
at Cambridge. The tone of filial regard and affection toward his 
stepfather, evinced by these letters, shows his own goodness of 
heart, and the just and kindly nature of Dr. Flagg. 

This first, under date of October 21, 1796, was written just 
after he entered college : 

" Honoeed Sib : Your kind letter I received a few weeks 
since, by the way of Ehode Island, added to the pleasure I 
received from Mr. Avery's letter that you were all well, in hear- 
ing from you myself. Perhaps you may think that my long 
neglect did not deserve even that ; but when you consider our 



16 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

retired situation, and the difficulty of knowing opportunities, 
your goodness cannot hesitate to excuse my silence. Mr. Avery 
has been so kind as to give me a general invitation to spend the 
vacation at his house, but the bustle of Boston suits my disposi- 
tion as much less than I expected, as my situation at Cambridge 
exceeds it. 

"The gratitude which I feel toward you for your paternal 
solicitude, I hope the future conduct of my life will evince. 
The Doctor with whom I live has shown a friendship for me 
that I wish may never be forgotten ; tho' the great distance I 
live from college makes my exercises rather disagreeable, the 
reflection of my situation makes me forget to complain. In 
short, I want nothing but your company in Carolina to make a 
wish vacant. 

"Give my sincere love to mamma, and likewise to my sisters, 
with a kiss for Henry and Toby. I subscribe myself, 
Your grateful and affectionate, 

" Washington Allston." 

Allston's letters to his mother were less frequent during his 
second year in college, and their infrequency called forth a 
remonstrance from his venerated tutor, Mr. Robert Eogers, of 
Newport. The innate nobility of character which accepts 
censure without resentment is shown in the following letter, 
dated October 28, 1797 : 

" My Wobthy Sib : Impressed with emotions of the sincerest 
gratitude, I sit down to acknowledge my obligations to you for 
the kind letter I have just this moment received from you. 
Never before have I felt such cruel sensations as I do now from 
reading those reproaches which are so justly merited by my un- 
pardonable neglect. 

" That any of my friends should suppose me capable of one 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 17 

ungrateful or indifferent feeling toward them is an arrow which 
could not be inflicted more poignantly in my breast. But I do 
not, cannot blame anyone for entertaining such an idea of me ; 
my conduct in that particular has given grounds too specious 
hardly to admit a doubt in the judgment of the most unsuspi- 
cious ; but, as God is my witness, no one has a truer affection 
for his friends and relatives than I pride myself in possessing. 
Were it possible that my mother could see and know the inward 
feelings of my heart, I could wish no other testimony to con- 
vince her that the want of affection for her is the last sin which 
could obtain a residence in my heart. But, however I may 
deserve any of these reproaches, I cannot omit thanking you 
for the solicitous advice your kind attention has honored me 
with. 

"It is my greatest misfortune to be too lazy, and by the few 
mortifications I have already met with on that account I predict 
many evils in my future life. I have always the inclination to 
do w T hat I ought; but by continually procrastinating for to- 
morrow the business of to-day, I insensibly delay, until at the 
end of one month I find myself in the same place as when I 
began it. You, no doubt, will allow all this to be very candid, 
and that I speak as I should do, but is it not more probable, 
you will observe, that these professions are good as far as they 
are professions, but how am I to know you will act up to them 
unless you practise them ? I know it is very easy to promise one 
thing and do another. We seldom find anyone who is unwilling 
to acknowledge his faults and promise to reform ; but there are 
very few who will resist the slightest obstacle or temptation to 
make good his professions. The most abandoned profligate at 
particular times will not hesitate to accuse himself of the great- 
est atrocities, and very frequently resolve to reform; yet no 
sooner is he under similar circumstances than we see him plunge 
as heedlessly into the same vices as if no such resolutions were 



18 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

ever made. But, sir, I assure you this is not, nor, I trust, will 
be, the case with me. I began to practise before I attempted 
these. Three weeks since I wrote to mamma, the Doctor, and 
my sister, some of which letters for length may serve for two 
or three each. And more, I have made a resolution which I 
flatter myself I shall be able to maintain, to write to Carolina 
every month, and, as opportunity offers, send them on. So 
much, sir, I have troubled you about myself. . . ." 

"Whether Allston persisted in the resolution formed at this 
time we cannot tell. It is to be regretted that so few of his 
letters, especially those written in his youth, have been pre- 
served. 

The next in our possession was written after an interval of 
three years, being dated June 23, 1800. It is interesting in its 
reference to the Commencement at Cambridge, and his modest 
entertainment to his classmates, which, in accordance to custom, 
he felt obliged to give. 

" My Honored Sir : Yours of May 19th I have just received. 
Agreeable to your wish, tho' I have nothing material to add at 
present, I seize the present opportunity once more to acknowl- 
edge the receipt of three separate remittances of one hundred 
and twenty dollars each. With regard to my expenses at Com- 
mencement I cannot make any accurate calculation. It is usual 
on that day for those who have exercises to perform, generally to 
give an entertainment, and that entertainment seldom comes short 
of two or three hundred dollars, indeed some exceed six. But 
as I have no ambition to shine beyond my abilities, I have thought 
proper to limit my magnificence to fifty. That sum I hope will 
enable me to entertain a small party with some degree of ele- 
gance ; accordingly I propose to invite about twenty gentlemen. 
As I make no pretensions to gallantry, and am besides intimate 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 19 

with families who are totally unacquainted with each other, 
whom I should necessarily be obliged to inyite, I have thought 
proper to dispense with the company of ladies. The exercise 
assigned me for Commencement is a poem ; the subject which I 
have selected is ' Energy of Character.' 

" I look now for Mr. and Mrs. Young, and anticipate much 
pleasure in returning with them to Carolina. As you are more 
acquainted with the expense of travelling, I have submitted to 
you the regulation of that article. Be assured, sir, if I prove ex- 
travagant, I shall be more so from ignorance than wilfulness. I 
am not wholly insensible to the pleasures of the world, therefore 
shall not be governed entirely by necessity ; but I flatter myself, 
at least, in being able to restrain their gratification within due 
bounds. I wait your intended remittance with some degree of 
anxiety, since the last has not emancipated me entirely from 
debt, the sums owing, however, are small. My duty to mamma, 
and remembering me to all, believe me still, 

" Your grateful and affectionate 

" "Washington Allston." 

The last of his early letters is to his mother. It shows that 
his determination to devote himself to art had strengthened with 
his years. It was not a whim or a fancy ; it was based in his 
emotional and intellectual nature. He was bom an artist, to 
paint was with him an instinct, he could not help it, and all 
influences to sway him from the pursuit of art were as idle wind 
to the oak. 

" Newpokt, August 12, 1800. 

" My Dear Mother : Yours, dated July 19th, was handed me a 
few days ago. I should have answered it immediately by post, but 
hearing of an opportunity by water I have waited till now for that. 

"It is needless to express my feelings on account of the Doc- 
tor's illness. You know my heart and its numerous obligations 



20 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

to that honored man, and can easily conceive its sufferings. I 
know not, my dear mother, how it will be in my power to return 
his services. In all respects and at all times has he acted toward 
me with the affection of a father ; I cannot therefore repay him 
but with the affection of a son. 

" I am now at Newport. The town is crowded with strangers, 
and gayer than I ever knew it ; but I feel so little relish for its 
amusements that I fancy it will be no great self-denial to comply 
with your wishes on my return. Be assured, dear mother, your 
request shall not necessarily be repeated. I will live as ' snug ' 
as you can desire. I feel no curiosity now to visit Charleston, 
and natter myself 'twill be no difficult task to keep out of it 
when in Carolina. I have become so habituated to a country 
life (for Cambridge is but a rural village) that I shall think my- 
self full happy enough in Waccamaw or St. Thomas. 

"It is so long since I have mentioned anything about my 
painting that I suppose you have concluded I had given it up. 
But my thoughts are far enough from that, I assure you. I am 
more attached to it than ever ; and am determined, if resolution 
and perseverance will effect it, to be the first painter, at least, 
from America. Do not think me vain, for my boasting is only 
conditional ; yet I am inclined to think from my own experience 
that the difficulty to eminence lies not in the road, but in the 
timidity of the traveller. Few minds capable of conceiving that 
are not adequate to the accomplishing of great designs ; and if 
there have been some failures, less blame, perhaps, is to be 
ascribed to the partiality of fortune than to their own want of 
confidence. 

"In a word, my dear mother, I already feel a fortune in my 
fingers. With what little skill I possess at present, I am per- 
suaded, did my pride permit, I could support myself with ease 
and respectability ; but I am content to remain poor as I am until 
painting shall have been formally established as my profession. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 21 

I have a few pieces by me which I intend sending on soon by 
water. 

" I write by this to sister Polly, and perhaps a few lines to 
the Doctor. Eliza, I hear, is quite a belle. As I am a beau, 
tell her I shall give her a few lessons in the art of heart-catching. 

"Remember me to all, and believe me still your dutiful, affec- 
tionate son, 

" Washington Allston." 

Following is an extract from a letter of Leonard Jarvis to 
R. H. Dana, Sr., full of interesting details of Allston's college 
life, and of observations upon his character. Jarvis was a class- 
mate and warm friend of Allston's. He was a man of high 
character and attained some prominence in public affairs. He 
was a member of Congress, and associated with Gulian C. Yer- 
plank and others in securing for Allston an order from the 
government to paint pictures for the panels of the Rotunda in 
the Capitol at Washington, which order though urged upon him 
Allston declined, for reasons given in his correspondence with the 
Committee appointed to confer with him on the subject. 

" My acquaintance with Allston began with our college life, 
in August, 1796. It was reported that two South Carolinians 
had joined our class, and some curiosity was excited as to what 
manner of men they were. It was at once seen that they had 
less of the schoolboy or raw student about them, and that they 
were dressed in more fashionable style than the rest of us. One 
of the two was Washington Allston, who was distinguished by 
the grace of his movements and his gentlemanly deportment. 
His countenance, once seen, could never be forgotten. His 
smooth, high, open forehead, surrounded by a profusion of dark, 
wavy hair, his delicately formed nose, his peculiarly expressive 
mouth, his large, lustrous, melting eye, which varied with every 



22 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

emotion, and complexion of most beautiful Italian cast — smooth 
and colorless, yet healthy — all blending harmoniously, formed a 
face which was irresistibly attractive, and which, united with his 
gentle, unassuming manners, secured him the good will of all 
his classmates. Those who hated one another most heartily — 
and there were good haters in our class — and who agreed in 
nothing else, united in respectful and kindly feelings toward 
him. He was also a favorite with the officers of the University, 
for his deportment to them was always respectful and gentle- 
manly, although a system of constant annoyance to the consti- 
tuted authorities of old Harvard was at that time quite the 
vogue. He was not distinguished as a scholar, though he always 
appeared well at recitations ; but his poetical talents and his 
genius for the fine arts were soon discovered, and gave him a 
high standing among us. The first indications of his power 
over the pencil were exhibited in some drawings made for Pro- 
fessor Waterhouse, to illustrate some essay of the professor's, 
intended for one of his scientific correspondents abroad, and the 
first lines of his writing which were made public were an elegy, 
half-burlesque and half-serious, upon the college barber and 
hairdresser (for in those days of queues and hair-powder and 
pomatum, such a character did exist), poor Galley, who was 
found dead one morning upon the steps of the chapel." 

" Allston had a room with Wainwright at Dr. Waterhouse's, 
where he also boarded, on the north side of the Common, and 
after Wainwright left college, in our Sophomore year, he had a 
room to himself nearer to the colleges, on the north side of the 
main road to Boston. It was in a tall, narrow, unpainted, awk- 
ward-looking building, opposite the seat of the late Jonathan 
Simpson. His chamber was on the first floor and on the west- 
ern side of the entrance, and he boarded, if I mistake not, at 
Mr. Bartlett's, whose house was on the same side of the road, a 
little nearer to the colleges. Here he abode without a chum dur- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 23 

ing the remainder of his academic life ; but he was by no means 
left in solitude. Edmund T. Dana and I used to pass a large 
portion of our time with him. As we both lived at home, re- 
mote from the colleges, and had to pass by Allston's room in our 
journeys to and fro, it was very convenient as well as pleasant to 
make it a stopping-place. We made ourselves quite at home 
there ; sometimes looking over our lessons, and generally passing- 
there the intervening hour that occurred between lectures and 
recitations. Sometimes of a cold night, after a visit to our fellow- 
students (perhaps I had better say our college acquaintances), 
we would prefer a share of his bed to trudging home. On one 
occasion Ned and I happened to meet there with the intention 
of passing the night. We could not prevail upon Allston to de- 
termine which of the two should stay, and as neither was dis- 
posed to yield, I proposed to Dana, as possession was eleven 
points in the law, that he who first undressed and got into bed 
should retain it. He consented to the proposal, and never were 
garments slipped off more rapidly. Ned beat me by a stocking, 
so I had to dress myself again and plod my solitary way home- 
ward, of a bitter cold night. There were two closets attached 
to the room intended for studies. In one of these Allston kept 
his fuel, and in the other his clothes, his books, and his painting 
implements and materials. His landlord was a carpenter, by 
the name of Clark, called by the students Don Clark. This 
worthy had an exalted opinion of the talents of Allston, and 
I well remember his remarks upon a picture of Thomson's 
' Musidora.' Clark had at times a peculiar simper resembling 
what I have since seen on the face of that exquisite low come- 
dian, Liston. With this expression, or want of expression, I 
know not which to call it, playing about his mouth, ' I have seen 
a picture, sir,' said he, 'painted by Mr. Allston. He has 
painted a woman, stark naked, going into the water to wash 
herself. It is as nateral as life. Mr. Allston, sir, is quite a 



24 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

genius.' The panes in the window of his chamber nearest to 
Boston, and fronting the road, our friend had covered with 
paintings touched with great spirit. The first was that of a 
country fellow walking at the rate of six miles an hour. The 
name he gave to this was, ' Walking a Good Stick.' This was 
entirely a whim of his own, and it was followed up by other 
promptings of his own fancy, or by suggestions made to him by 
Dana or myself, until the window was covered with a grotesque 
collection of figures which attracted universal attention. It was 
high sport to us to see the teamsters on their way to Boston 
stopping their cattle and looking up at the window with a 
mingled grin of wonder and delight." 

" He here gave himself up to painting and poetry ; but it 
was after a hard struggle that he finally determined to adopt the 
former for his future pursuit in life. His step-father, who was 
a physician, was earnest with him to follow that profession, and 
while filial duty urged him to comply, his genius was drawing 
him powerfully in the other direction. He imparted to me his 
struggle between duty and inclination, and I advised him not to 
hesitate, but to signify at once to his friends his repugnance 
to the course which they had pointed out, and his irresistible 
bias to the fine arts. This he at length determined to do, 
and when the assent of his friends was given he seemed to walk 
on air." 

"I have never for a moment questioned the judiciousness 
of the advice I gave. He was created with a powerful im- 
agination and an exquisite perception of the beautiful, he was 
designed by nature for a votary of the fine arts, and in nothing 
else could he have excelled ; but in these he had only to make 
his selection. His strong propension was to painting, but with 
the same pains he would have been eminent as a poet or sculp- 
tor. In our junior year, a masquerade was got up in our class 
in which Allston and I appeared as Don Quixote and Sancho 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 25 

Panza. I have in later times and in other countries attended 
at many a masquerade, but never have I seen better masks than 
those two. Allston carved the heads of the Knight and Squire 
in wood, upon which he formed masks of moistened paper, 
which he painted when dry, and they were most exquisite per- 
sonations of the characters they were intended to represent ; 
they could not have been surpassed in truth of expression. He 
also made for himself a complete suit of armor from helm to 
heel of pasteboard, painted to represent steel. In those days 
he also attempted music, and could make out to scrape a tune 
upon the violin, but he soon relinquished the bow, being satis- 
fied that he could not excel." 

" Before he left Newport to enter college, he was enamoured 
of the lady who afterward became his wife, and his passion was 
made known to its object, I think, before he had entered upon 
his junior year. He had a miniature likeness of her which he 
had drawn from memory, and many of his amatory effusions 
of those days were the offspring of his love for this lady. He 
was fond of writing poetry, and productions of his pen were 
at times to be seen in the poet's comer of the Centinell. On 
one occasion he sent some lines to that paper which Major 
Russel declined publishing, because, forsooth, in those days of 
high political excitement, there was no place for light reading. 
Our poet and his cronies were very indignant, and Allston re- 
venged himself upon the Goth by sending to him a political 
article in prose, written in the most bombastic style, and fairly 
out-Heroding Herod. As he had foreseen, this was published 
without delay, and we had our joke upon the deficiency of the 
Major, both in taste and judgment. He copied a part of what 
he wrote into a manuscript written with a great deal of care 
and ornamented with a variety of vignettes, for he never for a 
moment was unfaithful to the pencil. When resting after the 
composition of a sentence, his pen would often be employed in 



26 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

sketching a head or figure upon the same paper. Even his 
mathematical manuscript, as well as those of some of his friends, 
have the marks of his pencil, which he sometimes suffered to run 
riot in caricature. I can even now call to mind his ' Parabola 
personified ' mechanician drawing up water by the bucketful to 
set a huge water-wheel in motion ; his God of Day, as gross a 
caricature of that personage as that of Fielding in ' Tumble- 
down Dick.' The light of the sun was signified by the glimmer 
of a farthing candle ; his chariot, a clumsy, two- wheeled cart, 
and instead of Phelgon, Acthon, and the other fiery steeds, there 
was a raw-boned Kozinante, ' trotting about as fast as other 
horses stood still,' driven by a blackguard-looking boy, whom 
Apollo was telling to 'try to catch the moon.' Under the 
problem of how to measure the height of an inaccessible object, 
he had placed for that object a female figure representing 
Happiness, standing upon the apex of a pyramid. At the 
annual examination, when the bigwigs of the land were as- 
sembled, the mathematical manuscripts of the students were 
passed in review. Those among us who knew of these decora- 
tions watched with some attention to see the effect they would 
produce. Soon one of the examiners began to chuckle, and 
he called the attention of another, whose sides began to shake, 
and so the laughter ran through the conclave, the cockles of 
their hearts being more rejoiced than they ever had been in 
the philosophy chamber, as the room was called in which the 
examinations were held." 

" During Allston's college life he was appointed to deliver a 
poem at the autumnal exhibition of our senior year, which was 
received with great applause, and during the following winter he 
was called upon to deliver a poem upon the death of Washing- 
ton at the University commemoration of that melancholy event. 
The effect he produced was very great. I have never seen a 
public speaker whose appearance and gestures were so eminently 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 27 

graceful, and there was a peculiar sweetness and depth and 
plaintiveness in the tones of his voice. The audience had been 
cautioned, on account of the solemnity of the occasion, to abstain 
from the usual tokens of applause, but at several passages they 
could not be restrained. The murmurs of approbation were 
evidently involuntary, and the attempts at suppression rendered 
them still more striking, contrasted as they were with the dead 
stillness which had generally prevailed, and had manifested un- 
wonted attention on the part of the listeners. The oration that 
followed, though well written and creditable to its author, was 
coldly received, and the consequence was that at the following 
commencement the government of the University took care to 
place our friend in the order of exercises so far from the orator 
of the day. as not suffer the poem to destroy the oration." 

" Allston was fond of reading and writing, but he paid no 
more attention to our college studies than was necessary to 
secure a respectable standing. Though not remarkable as a 
plodding student, he was nevertheless a favorite with the most 
studious of the class, and, though not given to riot or dissipa- 
tion, he was equally well regarded by those who were then called 
' high fellows.' Indeed it was very remarkable that, without 
effort, and without derogating in the least from the simplicity 
and integrity of his character, he should have been such a uni- 
versal favorite. His favorite reading were plays and romances, 
particularly romances of the German schools, and he would sup 
on horrors until he would be almost afraid to go to bed until he 
had made sure that no goblin was under it or in the closet." 

" When he first entered college he was seduced by the tinsel 
of the Delia Cruscan poetry, and I remember his selection of 
some of Merry's verses for declamation, but he soon abandoned 
it for the manliness of Churchill. He had also the indepen- 
dence to like the poetry of Southey at a time when the politics 
of that bard, so different from the sentiments preferred at a later 



28 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

period by the poet-laureate, had put his writings under the ban 
of the arbiters of taste in this country as well as England." 

" Though abounding in the intellectual and the ideal, he was 
a great stickler for good eating, and it was a red-letter day with 
him when that prince of epicures, old Major Brattle, invited him 
to dinner. You will hardly credit me when I tell you that one 
Sunday, when he had an invitation from the Major, he ate no 
breakfast in order that his appetite might be keener and his 
relish greater. 

" He was, during his college life, a singular compound of diffi- 
dence, I might almost say bashfulness, and of assurance, some- 
thing in the young Marlowe style. At a charity ball, in Boston, 
for the benefit of a run-down French dancing-master, where we 
did not expect to meet any of our acquaintance, Allston took it 
into his head to enact the fop. He was dressed in the very 
extreme of coxcombry, and appeared quite at his ease in the 
multitude there assembled. Yet in the parlor, and in the com- 
pany of ladies, he would not be sufficiently at his ease to do 
himself justice. While upon his oddities, I may mention that in 
the cold nights of winter, not satisfied with the bed-clothes, of 
which 'poor Harry had no lack,' he would place upon his bed a 
chair or two, in order that he might feel a greater weight upon 
him." 

" In the year 1798 or 1799 there was a great stir and much 
ado about nothing created by Professor Robinson's ' Proofs of 
a Conspiracy.' Illuminati and other secret societies were about 
to turn the world topsy-turvy. All regular governments were 
to be overthrown, and Christianity itself was to be abolished. 
While the excitement was at the highest the students of Harvard 
were surprised at seeing upon the boards for advertisement in 
the chapel entry a summons for the meeting of a secret society, 
and while they were seeking to elucidate the mystery, another 
paper appeared in the same place solemnly warning them against 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 29 

indiscreet curiosity, and denouncing the most dreadful penalties 
against anyone who should seek to lift the veil. This was 
followed by a second summons in irregular verse, in which all 
ingredients of a hell broth were made to boil and bubble. All 
these papers were ornamented with altars, daggers, swords, 
chalices, death-heads and cross-bones, and other paraphernalia 
of German romance, which were stamped, not drawn, upon the 
papers, which besides bore huge seals. All this was the work 
of Allston and served for a nine days' wonder. Though this 
was in ridicule of the stuff of the day, yet Allston always be- 
longed to the Federal party, for which, I presume, he had no 
better reason than Charles Y. had for preferring the Church of 
England to that of Scotland, namely, that it was the more gen- 
tlemanly religion. Indeed, he was too far above the worldlings 
to be able to sympathize in party squabbles, and was too much 
given up to his imagination to attend much to things of this 
earth." 

" It is only in this way that his ignorance of a large portion 
of modern history can be explained. Walker, one day, rebuking 
him for not making himself better acquainted with the affairs 
of modern Europe, which it was disgraceful to a gentleman to 
to be in ignorance of, Allston repelled the imputation, and 
insisted that he was acquainted with history. 'Well,' said 
Walker, 'what can you say of the Treaty of Westphalia?' 
' What can I say ? ' replied Allston. ' I can say it was a very 
pretty treaty.' " 

"It would hardly be just to try the young men of 1800 by 
the standard of to-day. Temperance societies were then un- 
known, very few people were too good to go to the theatre, 
which at that time was frequented by more than one minister 
of the gospel ; clergymen would dance at private balls, would 
play at cards, and would even preside over the convivial boards, 
from which they did not retire until the mirth and fun grew 



30 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

fast and furious. They would write prologues to plays, occa- 
sional addresses for the theatres, and lampoons for the news- 
papers, and all this without losing caste or giving offence to 
their parishioners." 

" Allston could hardly be expected to hold back when par- 
sons led the way; he loved the festive boards and the social 
glass, and was delightful when a little elevated, but I never saw 
him ' bitch f ou,' as Burns would deem it, or so overtaken as to 
forget that he was a gentleman, nor did I ever know him to 
drink enough to bring repentance in the morning. He was 
also exceedingly fond of the theatre, and he loved dancing, in 
which he excelled ; but I have no recollection of ever seeing him 
take a card in hand. Whatever the religious exercises of the 
University may be at the present day, they were at that time 
not calculated to encourage religious emotions. Our worthy 
president had a wooden face, wore a white wig, and had a 
strong nasal intonation, and always repeated the same prayer, 
which had nothing to recommend it on the first hearing. What, 
then, could be expected of its effect, milies repetita? Under 
these circumstances it is not to be wondered at that the sum- 
moning of the chapel-bell should have been rather irksome, and 
I do not believe that among the three hundred under-graduates 
of Harvard, in my day, twenty could be found who would gain- 
say me, and certainly Allston would not have been one of the 
score. But I say as positively that I never heard him utter a 
sentiment or advance an opinion on serious subjects that in his 
riper and more sober years he would have had any occasion to 
disavow in consequence of its variance from what religion might 
enjoin." 

"In my allusion to college days I must not omit to mention 
the title of ' Count,' bestowed upon Allston by his two cronies, 
in jocular anticipations of the distinctions which were to crown 
his genius. To this appellation he would answer as readily as 



WASHINGTON- ALL8T0N 31 

to his own name, and it was never entirely given up, either in 
speaking to or of him, by those who had originated it. He 
was a member of all sorts of college societies and clubs, one of 
which was a coffee club, instituted in our senior year, and which 
survived until he returned to Europe in 1811. The members 
had each his nickname, and Allston hitched them into rhyme in 
a song struck out at heat, which was often sung in full chorus 
at our meetings. The rules of our club were, that we have no 
rules, but to meet every Thursday evening, and have no potation 
stronger than coffee." 



CHAPTEK III. 

RETURN TO CHARLESTON. — DEPARTURE FOR EUROPE. — STUDENT LIFE 
IN LONDON. — DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ALLSTON AND MALBONE. — 
ACQUAINTANCE WITH FUSELI. — EXHIBITION AT SOMERSET HOUSE. 

Upon his graduation Allston returned to his native State 
and took up his abode in Charleston, where his mother resided. 
There he painted several pictures. Prominent among these was 
one from " Paradise Lost," entitled " Satan Rallying his Hosts." 
This picture indicated the steadfast tendency of his mind. He 
lived in realms of the highest spiritual thought. The reach of 
his imagination was ever toward mystery, sublimity, and the 
grandly beautiful.- He seldom treated subjects belonging to the 
ordinary and familiar walks of life. " Satan Rallying his Hosts " 
and " The Handwriting on the Wall in the Palace of the Baby- 
lonian Monarch," mark the commencement and close of a series 
of pictures, conspicuous as are those of few other men, for at- 
tempted delineation in the highest sphere of the emotional and 
supernatural. His life-work in art was a kind of pictorial 
mythology. His companionship was among the gods. " Uriel 
in the Sun " and " Prometheus Bound " were subjects congenial 
to his high imagination, but his gentler nature was not less as- 
piring, and he loved to ascend on " Jacob's Ladder " with the 
angels, and lose himself in the dazzling splendor of the infinite. 

Of his life in Charleston Allston writes : " On quitting col- 
lege I returned to Charleston, where I had the pleasure to meet 
Malbone, and another friend and artist, Charles Fraser, who, by 
the by, now paints an admirable miniature. My picture manu- 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 33 

factory still went on in Charleston until I embarked for London. 
Up to this time my favorite subjects were banditti. I well re- 
member one of these, where I thought I had happily succeeded 
in cutting a throat. The subject of this precious performance 
was robbers righting with each other for the spoils, over the 
body of a murdered traveller. And clever ruffians I thought 
them. I did not get rid of this banditti mania until I had been 
over a year in England. It seems that a fondness for subjects 
of violence is frequent with young artists. One might suppose 
that the youthful mind would delight in scenes of an opposite 
character. Perhaps the reason of the contrary may be found in 
this: that the natural conditions of youth being one incessant 
excitement, from the continual influx of novelty — for all about us 
must at one time be new — it must needs have something fierce, 
terrible, or unusual to force it above its wonted tone. But the 
time must come to every man who lives beyond the middle age 
when there is nothing new under the sun. His novelties then 
are the refacimenti of his former life. The gentler emotions are 
then as early friends who revisit him in dreams, and who, re- 
calling the past, give a grace and beauty, nay, a rapture even, to 
what in the heyday of youth had seemed to him spiritless and 
flat. And how beautiful is this law of nature — perfuming, as 
it were, our very graves with the unheeded flowers of child- 
hood." 

" One of my favorite haunts, when a child in Carolina, was a 
forest spring where I used to catch minnows, and I daresay with 
all the callousness of a fisherman ; at this moment I can see the 
spring, and the pleasant conjuror Memory has brought again 
those little creatures before me ; but how unlike to what they 
were ! They seem to me like spirits of the woods, which a flash 
from their little diamond eyes lights up afresh in all their gor- 
geous garniture of leaves and flowers. But where am I going ? " 

Among the pictures painted by Allston, previous to his re- 



34 WASHINGTON AILSTON 

turn to Charleston, was a scene from the tragedy of Borabona. 
The grouping of the figures in this picture was of splendidly 
dressed tyrants and the slave Selim, surrounded by black mutes, 
who were introduced with much effect. He also designed and 
painted several scenes from " The Mysteries of Udolpho," and 
one from " The Mountaineers," in which Octavio figured. 

He had considerable tact for caricature, and drew one picture 
representing his French class seated around a table, except one 
boy reciting, the French master holding a pig in his hands and 
directing the boy to pronounce " oui " just like the noise made by 
the little brute. 

Not long before he left school for the University, he painted 
a capital likeness of a St. Domingo black boy, who was one of 
the house servants. He was represented with a liberty cap on 
his head, ornamented with a tricolored tassel and cockade, hold- 
ing in one hand a boot and in the other a shoe-brush. This he 
took to Cambridge with him about 1796. 

While in college he painted " Damon and Musidora," from 
. Thomson's "Seasons " (this is not the one mentioned by Jarvis), 
and also one in oil of " Octavia." 

In autumn, 1800, while in Newport, he painted a portrait of 
Kobert Eogers, his old schoolmaster, now in the possession of 
the Kogers family. 

During his stay in Charleston it became so apparent that his 
life was to be devoted to art, that all opposition on the part of 
his family ceased. It was arranged that he should pursue his 
studies in Europe ; all feeling of aversion to the profession in 
which his heart was so engrossed was changed to cordial acqui- 
escence ; his patrimony was turned over to him, and every aid 
afforded to facilitate his departure for the art centres of the Old 
World. 

Of the subject of his early life and prospects, Allston says : 
" There was an early friend, long since dead, whom I have 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 35 

omitted to mention, and cannot but wonder at the omission, 
since lie is one whose memory is still dear to me. The name of 
this gentleman was Bowman ; he was a native of Scotland, but 
had been long settled in Carolina. I believe I was indebted for 
the uncommon interest he was pleased to take in me to some of 
my college verses, and to a head of St. Peter (when he hears the 
cock crow), which I painted about that time. Be this as it may, 
it was not of an everyday kind, for when I was about to embark 
for Europe, he proposed to allow me, nay, almost insisted on my 
accepting a hundred pounds a year during my stay abroad. 
This generous offer, however, I declined, for having at that time 
a small income sufficient for my immediate wants, it would have 
been sordid to have accepted it. He then proposed to ship me a 
few tierces of rice ! That, too, I declined. Yet he would not 
let me go without a present ; so I was obliged to limit it to 
Hume's " History of England," and a novel by Dr. Moore, whom 
he personally knew, and to whom he gave me a letter of intro- 
duction ; the letter, however, was never delivered, as the Doctor 
died within a few days of my arrival in London. Such an in- 
stance of generosity speaks for itself. But the kindness of man- 
ner that accompanied it can only be known to one who saw it. 
I can see the very expression now. Mr. Bowman was an excel- 
lent scholar and one of the most agreeable talkers I have known. 
| Malbone, Eraser, and myself were frequent guests at his table, 
and delightful parties we always found there. "With youth, 
health, and the kindest friends, and ever before me buoyant 
hope, what a time to look back on ! I cannot but think that the 
life of an artist, whether poet or painter, depends much on a 
happy youth ; I do not mean as to outward circumstances, but as 
to his inward being ; in my own case, at least, I feel the depend- 
ence ; for I seldom step into the ideal world but I find myself 
going back to the age of first impressions. The germs of our 
best thoughts are certainly often to be found there ; sometimes, 



36 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

indeed (though rarely), we find them in full flower, and when so, 
how beautiful to us these flowers seem through an atmosphere of 
thirty years. 'Tis in this way that poets and painters keep their 
minds young. How else could an old man make the page or 
the canvas palpitate with the hopes and fears and joys, the im- 
petuous, impassioned, emotions of youthful lovers, or reckless 
heroes ? " 

"There is a period of life when the ocean of time seems to 
force upon the mind a barrier against itself, forming, as it were, 
a permanent beach, on which the advancing years successively 
break, only to be carried back by a returning current to that 
furthest deep whence they first flowed. Upon this beach the 
poetry of life may be said to have its birth ; where the real ends 
and the ideal begins." 

In May, 1801, accompanied by his friend Malbone, Allston 
embarked for England. Together they visited the great art gal- 
leries of London ; Allston was shocked that Malbone had no 
admiration for the old masters. After viewing the examples of 
Titian, Veronese, Rembrandt, and others, then on exhibition, he 
pointed to a portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and said he 
would rather possess that than all the other pictures of the col- 
lection. 

To a mind like Allston's, grasping at philosophies, studious of 
methods, ever striving to understand the principles by which 
the old masters produced their grand effects; to one who had 
learned to reverence them as men whose powers had exalted and 
given them rank as a kind of artistic magi, adepts in the sacred 
realms of art ; to him such want of appreciation was inexplica- 
ble, and the more so as Malbone was a man of acknowledged 
high ability, whose work had delighted him, indeed had largely 
inspired his own ; Malbone's mind was of a different order, one 
whose inspiration was self -supplied ; drawn from within rather 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 37 

than without. Sentimental and impulsive, rather than philosoph- 
ical and calculating, his works were the result of intuition rather 
than of study. Viewing genius as the power to remove difficul- 
ties in the way of the best results in art, we may say that in 
some men it is chiefly inspiration, in others study. In some it 
is intermittent, occasional, and unreliable ; in others it is contin- 
uous and usually at command, with larger grasp and higher 
reach. Men like Allston, abounding in both, represent the lat- 
ter, those like Malbone the former. The spontaneous pleases, 
the deliberate satisfies. 

Genius is strongest when it can brook rules and grow despite 
educational shackles ; when it can conform to conventional 
methods of training and develop under academic laws. Such 
was genius in Allston. It could drink culture into itself and 
expand. The severest schooling but ministered to its out- 
growth, as food useful, perhaps necessary, to its full develop- 
ment. Ordinarily culture is a leveller. Now and then a man 
is found whose individuality is so marked that it cannot be 
obscured. No degree of culture can make him like any other 
than himself. 

In most cases a student in the atelier of a great teacher 
becomes a follower, at a respectful distance, of his master. His 
peculiarities, if he had any, have been so dominated by the 
stronger genius and higher powers of the teacher that they are 
buried ; they are lost, and he is henceforth only an imitator. 
Had he not lost his individuality, had his training been confined 
to that which was best in himself, he would have at least main- 
tained some trace of originality, and a feeble originality is pre- 
ferable to mere imitation, however trained and polished. 

Allston was stimulated by all influences, all schools, all prece- 
dents ; nothing too large, nothing too small for the grasp and 
utilizing power of his genius. He was one of those whom noth- 
ing can overshadow or reduce to the common level. His first 



38 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

business in London was to prepare himself for admission as a 
student of the Boyal Academy. His first drawing was from the 
head of the " Gladiator," which gained him permission to draw 
at Somerset House. He then made a careful drawing of the 
" Apollo," and submitted it to Mr. West, who was at that time 
President of the Academy. West was much pleased with the 
drawing, and assured him there could be no doubt of its accept- 
ance. He speaks of West thus : 

" Mr. West, to whom I was soon introduced, received me with 
the greatest kindness. I shall never forget his benevolent smile 
when he took me by the hand ; it is still fresh in my memory, 
linked with the last of like kind which accompanied the last 
shake of his hand when I took a final leave of him in 1818. His 
gallery was opened to me at all times, and his advice always 
ready and kindly given. He was a man overflowing with the 
milk of human kindness. If he had enemies, I doubt if he 
owed them to any other cause than his rare virtue, which, alas 
for human nature, is too often deemed cause sufficient." 

Notwithstanding his patrimony, being of an extremely cau- 
tious nature, and wishing to guard against the uncertainties of 
transit from America in those days, and the possible miscarriage 
of remittances, Allston was anxious to ascertain whether by his 
work he could make a living in London. Accordingly he showed 
some of his water-color sketches to a publisher, and asked if they 
would be salable. The publisher said he would gladly take, at 
liberal prices, as many as he would furnish. Having thus pro- 
vided means of escape from possible want, he took lodgings in 
Buckingham Place, opposite Fitzroy Square, a very low-priced 
quarter, and entered diligently upon his studies. His efficiency 
and ability were greatly commended by Mr. West. 

On the walls of the Charleston Library Allston had seen en- 
gravings from the Boydell Shakespeare Gallery. The " Ghost 
Scene " in Hamlet,- by Fuseli, deeply affected him. On his arrival 



Portrait of Benjamin West, President of the Royal 

Academy. 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 39 

in England he sought out Fuseli, who asked him if he was an 
artist. " I mean to be," said he, " if industry will make me one." 
" If," said Fuseli, " I have any skill in physiognomy " (Fuseli 
was a pupil of Lavater) " you have more than industry on your 
side, but you have come a great way to starve." Allston replied, 
" I have a certain patrimony." " Ah," said Fuseli, " that makes 
a difference." 

Subsequently, speaking of this interview to an artist friend, 
he said that Fuseli made a lasting impression on him. To the 
question, " Why did you not cultivate a man whom you so much 
admire?" he replied, "Because I could not stand his pro- 
fanity." One day, in Fuseli's studio, Allston asked him what 
had become of his illustrations of Milton, engravings of which 
he had become familiar with in Charleston. Fuseli pointed 
sadly to a roll of canvas in the corner and said, " They are 
there." Allston mentioned one of them as having made a great 
impression on him. Fuseli exclaimed, " No, you don't like 
that ; you can't like that ; it's bad ; it's damned bad ! " 

In one of his letters Allston gives this opinion of Fuseli : " It 
was a few years ago the fashion with many criticising people (not 
critics, except those can be called so who make their own ignor- 
ance the measure of excellence) to laugh at Fuseli. But Fuseli, 
even when most extravagant, was not a man to be laughed at ; 
for his very extravagances (even when we felt them as such) had 
that in them which carried us along with them. All he asked of 
the spectator was but a particle of imagination, and his wildest 
freaks would then defy the reason. Only a true genius can do 
this. But he was far from being always extravagant ; he was 
often sublime, and has left no equal in the visionary ; his spectres 
and witches were born and died with him. As a critic on the art, 
I know no one so inspiring. Having, as you know, no gallery of 
the old masters to visit here, I often refresh my memory of them 
with some of the articles in ' Pilkington's Dictionary,' and he 



40 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

brings them before me in a way that no other man's words 
could ; he even gives me a distinct apprehension of the style 
and color of some whose works I have never seen. I often read 
one or two of his articles before I go into my painting-room ; 
they form indeed almost a regular course at breakfast." 

Sir Joshua Reynolds died before Allston reached London. 
Allston used to deplore his loss in not having known him per- 
sonally, for his admiration of Reynolds was unbounded. He 
had read his lectures, delivered as President of the Royal 
Academy, and from that fountain of pure English had drunk with 
wondering delight ; wondering that a man so gifted and affluent 
in the products of his brush should be so surpassingly effective 
and brilliant with his pen. Contemporaneous and subsequent 
criticism has sustained this high estimate of Sir Joshua's literary 
merit. Had his power been expended in more popular work, as 
in novels, or stories touching the ordinary interests of life, Sir 
Joshua would rank with the best writers of his time. As Luman 
Reed, one of the most intelligent patrons of American art, pith- 
ily said : " Sir Joshua's lectures are not only instructive to ar- 
tists, but they furnish rules of life." And when to Sir Joshua's 
literary attractiveness is added his fascinating power as a paint- 
er, it is not surprising that Allston should have said : " Had it 
been my happiness to have known him, I would, by all means 
possible to me, have endeavored to ingratiate myself with him." 

Before leaving London Allston contributed to an exhibition 
at Somerset House, of which he speaks thus: "The year 1802 
was the first of my adventuring before the public, when I ex- 
hibited three pictures at Somerset House— the principal one, 
' A French Soldier Telling a Story' (a comic attempt), 'A Rocky 
Coast with Banditti,' and a ' Landscape with a Horseman,' which 
I had painted at College. I received two applications for the 
' French Soldier,' which I sold to Mr. Wilson of the European 
Museum, for whom I afterward painted a companion to it, also 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 41 

comic, ' The Poet's Ordinary,' where the lean fare was enriched 
by an accidental arrest." Allston's versatility is shown in the 
success these comic pictures made. They must have attracted 
considerable notice as the biographer of Sir Thomas Lawrence 
is quoted as saying: "In mentioning American painters it 
would be unpardonable to omit the broad humor, in the style 
of Hogarth, in the pictures of Mr. Allston." 



CHAPTEE IV. 

FIKST IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON GIVEN IN LETTERS TO FRASER AND 
KNAPP. — CONTRAST BETWEEN LUXURY AND SQUALOR. — SOCIAL 
INEQUALITY. — WEST'S RANK AS A PAINTER. — FUSELI, OPIE, 
NORTHCOTE, AND TRUMBULL. 

Soon after Allston's arrival in London, he wrote to his friend 
Charles Fraser, a young artist in Charleston, the following in- 
teresting letter : 

"London, August 25, 1801. 

" Were it in my power, I would certainly make an excuse for 
having so long delayed writing to you ; but, as I have none to 
make, I shall throw myself on that candor which my short ac- 
quaintance with you has encouraged me to expect. You have no 
doubt anticipated much, and will, I apprehend, be not a little 
disappointed at the account of what I have seen. 

" I landed in this country big with anticipation of every 
species of grandeur. No city, thought I then, to be compared 
with London, no people with its inhabitants. But I have found 
London but a city, and its inhabitants like the rest of the world, 
much in them to admire, more to despise, and still more to 
abhor. 

" As to the country, it is beyond my expectation, beautiful 
and picturesque ; and the appearance of the people, that of 
health and contentment ; in short, every leaf seemed to embody 
a sentiment and every cottage to contain a Yenus. But when I 
arrived in London, what a contrast ! Figure to yourself the ex- 
tremes of misery and splendor, and you will have a better idea 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 43 

of it than I can give you. Scarcely a luxury but you may com- 
mand here ; and scarcely a scene of wretchedness but you may 
witness at the corner of every street. Indeed, the whole city 
appears to be composed of princes and beggars. I had no 
idea before of pride unaccompanied by some kind of merit. 
But here no one has pride without fortune. Indeed, the most 
respectable among the middle ranks appear to have no conse- 
quence except in boasting of the acquaintance of some one in 
rank ; and among the greater part, so shameful is their venal- 
ity, they will condescend to flatter the most infamous for a 
penny. 

"It is said in their defence that every man must live, and in 
so populous a country one must not be scrupulous about the 
means. But I can conceive of no necessity that should induce a 
man to degrade himself before those with whom he cannot but 
feel an equality, and whom he has too frequently occasion to de- 
spise. But it is time to conclude with this for I know you must 
be impatient to read something about the arts. 

"You will no doubt be surprised that among the many 
painters in London I should rank Mr. West as first. I must 
own I myself was not a little surprised to find him such. I left 
America strongly prejudiced against him ; and indeed I even 
now think with good reason, for those pictures from which I 
had seen prints would do no credit to a very inferior artist, 
much less to one of his reputation. But when I saw his gallery 
and the innumerable excellences which it contained, I pro- 
nounced him one of the greatest men in the world. I have 
looked upon his understanding with indifference, and his imagi- 
nation with contempt ; but I have now reason to suppose them 
both vigorous in the highest degree. No fancy could have bet- 
ter conceived and no pencil more happily embodied the visions 
of sublimity than he has in his inimitable picture from Bevela- 
tion. Its subject is the opening of the seven seals, and a more 



44 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

sublime and awful picture I never beheld. It is impossible to 
conceive anything more terrible than Death on the white horse, 
and I am certain no painter has exceeded Mr. West in the fury, 
horror, and despair which he has represented in the surround- 
ing figures. I could mention many others of similar merit, but 
were I particular on each I should not only weary you but write 
myself asleep. 

" Of Fuseli I shall speak hereafter. I have seen but few of 
his pictures, therefore cannot so well judge at present. They 
are, however, sufficient to entitle him to immortality. Indeed, 
his ' Hamlet ' alone, were it not for the picture I have just 
mentioned, would undoubtedly place him in the first seat among 
the English artists. Another picture also of his that I admire 
much represents ' Sin Separating Death and Satan.' The atti- 
tude of Satan is beyond improvement sublime, and the others 
are such as none but Fuseli could have painted. In short, it is 
the only picture I ever saw that was worthy of being joined with 
the name of Milton. The following are some extempore lines I 
made on it : 

fi Artist sublime, I own thy powerful spell, 
I feel thy fire, and hear the blasts of hell ; 
I see thy monster from the canvas stride, 
While chilly tremors o'er my senses glide ; 
Thro' heaving throttle vainly gasp for breath, 
And feel the torture of approaching death. 
I hear thy Satan's rebel thunders roll, 
While awful tempests gather round my soul. 
Convulsive now I lift the admiring eye, 
And now with horror from his presence fly ; 
Still in suspense, as laboring fancy burns, 
I hate, admire, admire and hate by turns. 

" Opie comes next in rank ; as a bold and determinate delin- 
eator of character he has not a superior. He is surpassed, how- 
ever, by Northcote in effect. But that is a subordinate excel- 



WA SITING TOX ALLXTON 45 

lence. Indeed, were it not the English artists might well stand 
in competition with many of the ancient masters. You have 
seen a print from Northcote's ' Arthur.' The original, I must 
own, is a beautiful thing. But Opie has painted the same sub- 
ject, and I assure you the two rnctures will not bear a compari- 
son. You may think I exaggerate when I say the head of 
Arthur is the divinest thing I ever beheld. But I assure you 
it is no less. His Hubert I do not like, it is not equal to 
Northcote's. But his two villains are such as the devil nour- 
ishes in the cradle. They have murder written on every fea- 
ture ; and I cannot but think that Opie, like Salvator Bosa, 
must have lived among banditti to have so admirably portrayed 
them. 

" Are these all ? you will ask. All indeed, I assure you, 
that are worth mentioning. I had forgot, however, the portrait 
painters. The two first are Lawrence and Sir William Beechy, 
but even Lawrence cannot paint so well as Stuart; and as for the 
rest they are the damnedest stupid wretches that ever disgraced 
a profession. But I do not include the miniature painters ; that 
is a line I am but little acquainted with, therefore I am not able 
to judge. As far, however, as my judgment extends I can pro- 
nounce Mr. Malbone not inferior to the best among them. He 
showed a likeness he painted of me to Mr. "West, who compli- 
mented him very highly, ' I have seldom seen, 1 said he, ' a 
miniature that pleased me more.' I would mention also some 
compliments which he paid me, but I should blush to repeat 
what I cannot think I deserve. 

"Your friend White I like very much. He has a spice 
of literature about him which makes him not the less agreeable 
to me, who am about (pdrabUe dictu) to publish a book. By 
the by, how long do you suppose Trumbull was about his ' Gib- 
raltar ? ' It is truly a charming picture ; but he was a whole 
year about it, therefore it ought to have been better. I have no 









46 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

idea of a painter's laboring np to fame. When he ceases to 
obtain reputation without it, he becomes a mechanic. Trumbull 
is no portrait painter. By this picture alone he has gained 
credit. But it is indeed credit purchased at a most exorbitant 
interest. 

" I have lately painted several pictures ; but am now about 
one that will far surpass anything I have done before. The sub- 
ject is from the passage of Scripture, ' And Christ looked upon 
Peter.' It contains twenty figures, which are about two feet in 
height, on the whole making the best composition I ever at- 
tempted. The two principal groups are Christ between two 
soldiers, who are about to bear him away, the high priests, etc., 
and Peter surrounded by his accusers. The other groups are 
composed of spectators, variously affected, men, women, and 
children." 

" Next week I shall apply for admission into the Academy. 
The very first figure that I drew from plaster, Mr. West said, 
would admit me. It was from the ' Gladiator.' He was aston- 
ished when I told him it was my first, and paid a compliment 
(too pretty to be repeated) to the correctness of my eye. He also 
observed that I not only preserved the form, but, what few artists 
think of, the expression of my subject. You see by this account 
that I am not very modest. Indeed I despise the affectation of 
it. But my principal motive in being thus particular is to en- 
courage you by proving that much greater men than either you 
or I were once no better than ourselves. And could I convince 
you, by flattering myself, of the dignity of your powers, I would 
boast as much again. Believe me, sir, it is no proof of vanity 
that a man should suppose himself adequate to more than he has 
already performed. Confidence is the soul of genius. Great 
talents to a timid mind are of as little value to the owner as gold 
to a miser, who is afraid to use it. Great men rise but by their 
own exertions. It is the fool's and the child's pusillanimity 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 47 

alone that are boosted up to fame. How are we to leam our own 
powers without a trial ? Accident will, indeed, sometimes dis- 
cover them ; but are we all to wait for accident ? No, sir ; the 
principle of self-love was implanted in us to excite emulation, 
and he violates a law of nature who yields to despair without a 
previous trial of his powers. A little seasonable vanity is the 
best friend we can have. 

" Not that silly conceit founded on adventitious advantages, 
which exalts us but in our own imagination. But I mean the 
confidence which arises from a determination to excel, and is 
nourished by a hope of future greatness. The great Buffon 
thought there were but three geniuses in the world — two besides 
himself. And what was the consequence ? His application was 
indefatigable. He was a genius and ought to surpass other men. 
He did surpass them. Caesar, giving an account of his conquest, 
said, ' Veni, vidi, vici.' No man, perhaps, had so great an 
opinion of his own strength, and no man was capable of more. 
When a man is thus confident he is not to be discouraged by 
difficulties. But his exertions rather strengthen as they in- 
crease. It was a saying of Alcibiades, and I believe a very just 
one, that 'When souls of a certain order did not perform all they 
wished, it was because they had not courage to attempt all they 
could.' 

"Why, then, my friend, should you despair? You have 
talents ; cultivate them — and it is not impossible that the name 
of Fraser may one day be as celebrated as those of Baphael and 
Michael Angelo. Besolve to shine, and, believe me, the little 
crosses of to-day will vanish before the more substantial joys of 
to-morrow. 

"In the meantime let me advise you to beware of love. Love 
and painting are two opposite elements; you cannot live in 
both at the same time. Be wise in time, and let it not be said, 
when future biographers shall record your life that, ' Mr. Fraser 



48 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

promised much, his genius gave symptoms of expansion beyond 
mortality, but love, alas ! untimely love had set a seal upon his 
fame. His soul, which was just about to grasp a world, is now 
imprisoned within the bosom of a girl.' 

" ' Where now are those mighty schemes which were to ele- 
vate him to the summit of fame ? Where are those characters 
which were to inscribe the name of Fraser on the front of time ? 
Alas ! a woman's tears have washed them from his memory. 
No longer is he anxious to be distinguished from the crowd ; 
no longer does the spirit of Michael Angelo point the way to 
heaven ; he is blessed with a smile from his mistress, his ambi- 
tion is contented ; he seeks no other heaven than the bed of 
roses on her bosom.' 

" No, Fraser, let this not be said of you. Love in its place I 
revere ; but it is not at all times to be indulged. There are many 
beautiful girls in Charleston, but Raphael and Michael Angelo 
are still more beautiful than they. 

"Believe me, with sincerity, your friend, 

" Washington Allston." 

In this letter to Fraser, Allston's characterization of the ma- 
jority of portrait painters in London is very remarkable. " They 
are the damnedest stupid wretches that ever disgraced a profes- 
sion." This rather profane expletive might pass unnoticed from 
an ordinary man, but from Allston it is a surprise. From his 
most intimate friends, and from the whole range of his corre- 
spondence, if we except this letter, we can discover no instance 
where his sense of propriety seems to have been off guard. We 
may conclude from this that the intimacy between Allston and 
Fraser was so close as to obliterate barriers of ordinary circum- 
spection. It would be interesting to know more of one who 
could find his way through all defences to the inner life and 
thought of his friend. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 49 

Two other interesting letters, written from London to his 
friend Knapp, we give below : 

" London, July 28, 1803. 

" Dear Knapp : The relief of confession is always so great 
that I know not whether we do not frequently what is wrong 
for the pleasure of acknowledging it, as an epicure will often 
go without food for the increasing gratification of his appetite. 
At least so I am willing you should account for my neglect. 
Besides, I may also lay claim to another motive — the pleasure 
of undeceiving a friend where circumstances may have induced 
him to doubt our attachment. But, however agreeable the last 
may be, I cannot assign it here as a serious motive, for in that 
case I should suppose you (which I am far from thinking) both 
ignorant and suspicious of my character. My silence, I dare say, 
you will attribute to laziness, and you know me too well to ex- 
pect that I shall deny it ; you will therefore excuse me if I do 
not attempt a thorough vindication. 

" Your letter, by Wyre, I have received. You complain much 
of stagnation, but the activity of thought you display in describ- 
ing your situation goes very little toward convincing me that 
your complaint is serious ; and unless I should consider you as 
one of those unfortunate gentlemen who fancy themselves oysters, 
while they are reasoning like philosophers, I must still hold to 
the opinion that you were possessed of the same feelings, that 
you are the same acute observer, and the same poet, as when I 
left you. Your observation about critics may not be confined to 
America. I have found it applicable more particularly in Lon- 
don. There are indeed a few daring spirits who judge for them- 
selves ; but of the few who dare, there are still fewer whose judg- 
ment is sanctioned by their candor or their taste. It is sufficient, 
however, to be received that an opinion is pronounced with bold- 
ness, as every one is willing, when done, to reverence what he had 
the courage to attempt. 



50 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

" Neither do I think it should be confined to London. For 
when we reflect that to judge with propriety the critic should be 
enabled to incorporate his mind with his author, it is not so 
wonderful that so few should be fond of, as that so many should 
be capable of, judging anywhere. I hope, however, you were not 
led to the observation alluded to under any apprehension for 
yourself. If you were, I take the liberty to say you were wrong ; 
for an original genius will command attention at least, if not 
admiration, among any people ; and that such is yours you will 
not think it flattery if I declare. This critical timidity I appre- 
hend, will continue to increase in every society where the literary 
condidates are themselves afraid. When a man undertakes a 
great design, and expresses a doubt whether he shall be success- 
ful, we are always ready to commend his modesty ; but we lose 
that admiration of his powers which a proper confidence will 
never fail to inspire. Let modesty be considered in an agreeable 
light, but only as a buoy on the ocean of literature, to warn each 
adventurer of the wreck beneath it. By you, my friend, it 
always has been, and I hope always will be, considered as the 
most graceful ornament of private life. I only request that you 
would lay it aside in the literary world. 

" I have made these observations under a persuasion that you 
will aspire to salute the great toe of the holy Pope Apollo, or, in 
other words, that you had either begun or intended to begin a 
poem. You will do right not to neglect your profession. But 
you should never forget what you owe to the future fame of 
your country ; you should never forget that the muses who 
nursed you and watched round your cradle are now mystically 
anticipating the future reputation of their favorite, and though 
they behold the scythe of Death level him in his course, still 
hoping to enjoy the never-dying glory of his labors. 

" You were so good as to give me some advice in your last, 
for which I thank you. This you may consider only as a re- 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 51 

turn. But I offer it with sincerity ; and would urge it with 
effect, if it should be necessary. Your powers, my friend, are 
such as heaven has bestowed on few; and you have already 
given no little promise that they were not given in vain ; let not 
that promise be forgotten, or ever hereafter remembered with 
regret. What think you of a poem in the manner of Spenser ? 
It is not a popular mode of versification, and the simplicity of 
his style (at least as much as Beattie has adopted) is admirably 
suited to the wildness of Indian story. Not that I would have 
you imitate him in preference to writing from yourself, for your 
own style has a decided character, and one that I should be 
sorry you should change ; but I mean only that you should 
write in the same stanzas and adopt some of his words. How- 
ever, in whatever metre, in whatever words, I beg you will write. 
I have not forgotten your ' Wacoon chanting from some view- 
less cliff.' By the by, I never answered your poetical letter 
which I received last winter. My reason is my hearing after- 
ward you had sailed for Europe. 

" Mr. Derby, who will take charge of this letter, goes sooner 
than I expected, so I will break off here and write in a few days 
in continuation. I go to France in about two months." 

"London, August 24, 1803. 
" Dear Knapp : As I promised you a letter in continuation 
of my last, I will resume a subject in which I feel no little inter- 
est. The high opinion I entertain of your talents may be an ex- 
cuse (if you should deem one necessary) for my boring you to ex- 
ert them. Do not suppose I think you wanting in confidence or 
enthusiasm, as a man of genius I know you possess them both ; 
but you may, probably, weigh too scrupulously the effect of your 
labor in America. It is, therefore, that I would urge the exer- 
tion of your powers — of powers capable of the sublimest flights 
in the regions of fancy. If you will not write for yourself, at 



52 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

least write for your country ; and should the critics attack you, 
answer them in the language of Euripides, when the Athenians 
criticised him, ' I do not compose my works in order to be cor- 
rected by you, but to instruct you.' 

" I do not see why every author is not adequate to the judg- 
ing of his own performance. Surely the mind which is capable 
of conceiving a great plan may also possess an equal power to 
analyze its principles. The affection which parents feel for their 
offspring I know is opposed to it ; but without the severity of 
Yirgil, a father may obtain a temporary ignorance of his child by 
sending him away. Then it may be urged a return would nat- 
urally increase his affection. True ; but the same novelty that 
displays the accomplishments will discover the defects of his off- 
spring. Strong memories stand likewise in the way of this ; but 
Pope says men of genius have short memories. "Whether true or 
false, I will not undertake to determine. I am satisfied to answer 
that very retentive memories have been rare, and many geniuses 
have been remarkable for their absence ; besides, a man of great 
memory can never be alone ; he is always in company with the 
thoughts of other men. 

"In reply to all this, you will naturally ask what I have done. 
I cannot answer that I have done anything, but I mean to do 
something. My profession will always be painting, but I have 
not serenaded the Muses so many cold wintry nights for noth- 
ing ; they shall grant me a favor before I die. The ' notable 
plot for a tragedy,' you allude to, I have with many alterations 
completed. The dialogue, however, is still unfinished. But I 
resumed it not long since, and have advanced in it considerably, 
so that I hope, ere many moons, the voice of Melpomene will 
decide its fate. I will quote from it an address to the moon, 
by the principal female character. She is destined to move in a 
conspicuous sphere, and I intend her to represent the combina- 
tion of a masculine mind and an ambitious spirit with vehement 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 53 

passions, nor yet destitute of feminine delicacy. Ambition, how- 
ever, is her predominant feature. How far the address is in 
character, I leave you to judge. 

'TO THE MOON. 

1 Olympia, pale queen of mystery, I hail thy beams. 
Now all is dark save here and there to view, 
Where mid thy dim and solemn empire rise 
Vast rocks and woods and towers and gorgeous towns. 
So o'er the shadowy regions of my soul 
Hope's mystic rays reveal the dusky forms 
Of Fancy's wild creation. To thy power, 
O potent sorceress, I yield my soul. 
Watch o'er my thoughts and round my glowing brain, 
While darkness veils in dread sublimity, 
Pour thy majestic visions ; for to thee, 
Alone to thee, belongs the mighty charm 
That swells the heart in towering confidence, 
Scorning the coward prudence of the world 
To meet the vast conceptions of the mind.* 

" I believe it has been the case with many who have con- 
ceived great plans, which have been rendered abortive by the 
opposite opinions of those they live with, that they only wanted 
the confidence which solitude inspires to carry them to perfec- 
tion. I speak of all plans, whether good or bad. A man in 
society and a man alone are two different beings. It is unfortu- 
nate, however, for the world that so many have not felt the want 
of this solitary confidence. It would be a curious speculation to 
calculate the mischief that many villains would make were they 
not restrained by the fears awakened by virtuous examples. I 
will quote one more passage by the same character, simply as 
expressive of the same energy. 

" She replies to the Prince, who is her lover and hints 
at making her his mistress. Her indignation is not more in- 



54 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

spired by love than ambition, for her principal object is his 

throne. 

' to purchase love ? 

Oh, blasphemy to love. As soon, mean reptile, 
Mayst thou purchase life and bribe the worms 
That revel in thy grave their feasts forego, 
And weave their volumes into flesh again.' 

" The second line, you will perceive, is defective in measure, 
but it will be corrected in due time. I have not time to add 
another line. You will excuse my abrupt conclusion, and, be- 
lieve me, your friend, 

"Washington Ai,lston." 



CHAPTEE Y. 

WITH VANDERLYN IN PAEIS. — IMPRESSIONS OF THE OLD MASTERS. — 
HIS PREFERENCE FOR THE GREAT VENETIANS. — THEORIES OF 
PAINTING. — JOURNEY TO ITALY. — STUDIOUS APPLICATION TO 
WORK. — RAPHAEL AND MICHAEL ANGELO. 

After a comparatively brief stay in London Allston, accom- 
panied by Yanderlyn, went to Paris. It was during the exciting 
period of the wars of Napoleon. Here he became a constant and 
diligent student in the galleries of the Louvre. 

Never before, never since, has there been gathered into one 
collection so many masterpieces of art as were to be seen in the 
Louvre when Allston and Yanderlyn visited it. These trophies 
of Napoleon's conquests throughout Europe were the best works 
of the greatest masters. Subsequently many were returned to 
their rightful owners, and still the exhibition of the Louvre is 
justly considered the finest in the world. In his " Lectures on 
Art," Allston writes of the impression made upon him by this 
splendid collection as follows : 

"Titian, Tintoret, and Paul Yeronese absolutely enchanted 
me, for they took away all sense of subject. When I stood before 
'The Peter Martyr,' < The Miracle of the Slave,' and < The Mar- 
riage of Cana,' I thought of nothing but the gorgeous concert of 
colors, or rather of the indefinite forms (I cannot call them sen- 
sations) of pleasure with which they filled the imagination. It 
was the poetry of color which I felt, procreative in its nature, 
giving birth to a thousand things which the eye cannot see, and 
distinct from their cause. I did not, however, stop to analyze 



56 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

my feelings — perhaps at that time I could not have done it. I 
was content with my pleasure without seeking the cause. But 
now I understand it, and think I understand why so many great 
colorists, especially Tintoret and Paul Veronese, gave so little 
heed to the ostensible stories of their compositions. In some of 
them, ' The Marriage of Cana,' for instance, there is not the 
slightest clue given by which the spectator can guess at the sub- 
ject. They addressed themselves, not to the senses merely, as 
some have supposed, but rather through them to that region (if 
I may so speak) of the imagination which is supposed to be un- 
der the exclusive dominion of music, and which, by similar ex- 
citement, they caused to teem with visions that ' lap the soul in 
Elysium.' In other words they leave the subject to be made 
by the spectator, provided he possesses the imaginative faculty ; 
otherwise they will have little more meaning to him than a calico 
counterpane. 

" I am by nature, as it respects the arts, a wide liker. I can- 
not honestly turn up my nose even at a piece of still life, since, 
if well done, it gives me pleasure. This remark will account for 
otherwise strange transitions. I will mention here a picture of a 
wholly different kind, which then took great hold of me, by Lo- 
dovico Carracci. I do not remember the title, but the subject 
was the body of the Yirgin borne for interment by four apostles, 
The figures are colossal ; the tone dark, and of tremendous depth 
of color. It seemed, as I looked at it, as if the ground shook 
under their tread, and the air were darkened by their grief. 

"I may here notice a false notion which is current among 
artists, in the interpretation they put on the axiom that ' some- 
thing should always be left to the imagination,' viz., that some 
parts of a picture should be left unfinished. The very statement 
betrays its unsoundness, for that which is unfinished must nec- 
essarily be imperfect; so that, according to this rule, imper- 
fection is made essential to perfection. The error lies in the 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 57 

phrase, ' left to the imagination,' and it has filled modern art 
with random flourishes of no meaning. If the axiom be intended 
to prevent the impertinent intrusion of subordinate objects (the 
faults certainly of a mean practice), I may observe that the rem- 
edy is no remedy, but rather a less fault substituted for a 
greater. Works of a high order, aspiring to the poetical, cannot 
make good their pretensions unless they do affect the imagina- 
tion ; and this should be the test — that they set to work, not to 
finish what is less incomplete, but to awaken images congenial to 
the compositions, but not in them expressed; an effect that 
never was yet realized by misrepresenting anything. If the ob- 
jects introduced into a picture keep their several places as well 
in the deepest shadow as in the light, the general effect will suf- 
fer nothing by their truth ; but to give the whole truth in the 
midnight as well as in the daylight, belongs to a master." 

It is doubtful whether the Gallery of the Louvre was ever 
more faithfully studied than by Allston. He devoted himself 
almost exclusively to the old masters, toward whom his allegi- 
ance never wavered. 

Vanderlyn, his most intimate friend during his stay in Paris, 
was the protege of Aaron Burr ; he distinguished himself by his 
celebrated picture of " Marius amid the ruins of Carthage," and 
his beautiful rendering of " Ariadne." For the former, which 
was exhibited in Paris, he was awarded a prize medal. 

While in Paris Allston's remittances failed, and he had his 
first experience in pecuniary embarrassment. Vanderlyn assured 
him that he could arrange for his relief. " How ? " asked All- 
ston. "lean swear to your financial soundness," was the rep]y. 
Vanderlyn went to his tailor and stated the case so effectively 
that the tailor told Allston to draw on him for whatever he 
needed. He drew for a thousand francs, and shortly after re- 
funded the money, and further, to discharge the obligation, 
ordered two suits of clothes. 



58 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

In character and methods of art it would be difficult to find 
two men more dissimilar than Yanderlyn and Allston. Yander- 
lyn, with many fine traits and eminent ability as an artist, 
grasped only the external and obvious. Facts ; truth, however 
barren or angular, was the prime object of attainment with him. 
Imagination was bridled and curbed by a stern regard for the 
obviously true. He might conceive and plan, but he would paint 
only that which he could see with his physical eye. Even the 
ruins of Carthage must be constructed from the remains of 
Greek temples, and in miniature proportions placed in his 
studio before he would attempt to paint his great picture. He 
lived in the outer, and had but little communion with the purely 
ideal. His intellectual powers, though large and vigorous, sel- 
dom waited upon his emotions. With Allston, emotion aroused 
and fired imagination, and intellect, though ever present in large 
measure, was tempered and mingled with the emotional. The 
one was altogether practical, matter of fact ; the other dreamy, 
thoughtful, eccentric, and full of the adventuring spirit of genius. 

Allston travelled to Italy through Switzerland, drinking in, 
with ever-increasing delight, the beauties of the scenery in the 
vicinity of the Swiss lakes and in the Alps. Few of the letters 
written at this time have been preserved, but from one of these 
we quote : 

" The impressions left by the sublime scenery of Switzerland 
are still fresh to this day. A new world has been opened to me, 
nor have I met with anything like it since. The scenery of the 
Apennines is quite of a different character. By the by, I was 
particularly struck in this journey with the truth of Turner's 
Swiss scenes — the poetic truth, which none before or since have 
given, with the exception of my friend Brockhedon's magnificent 
work on the passes of the Alps. I passed a night and saw the 
sun rise on the Lake Maggiore. Such a sunrise ! The giant 
Alps seemed literally to rise from their purple beds, and put- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 59 

ting on their crowns of gold to send up a hallelujah almost 
audible." 

In Italy Allston stopped first in Sienna, to acquaint himself 
with the language before going to Eome. He visited Venice, 
and spent a year studying and painting in the galleries of Flor- 
ence ; he went to Eome in March, 1805, and there became im- 
bued with the spirit of the old masters. Michael Angelo's forms 
and Titian's color found a response in his own ideals of majesty, 
harmony, and beauty. But they found in him an individuality 
that, while it could be strengthened and impressed, could not be 
obliterated or overwhelmed. He painted himself, inspired by 
the Italian masters, and the result was a new manifestation. He 
studied with all the powers of his mind, intent upon understand- 
ing the methods of his great prototypes in art, and it is not too 
much to say that he exhibited more of the spirit of the best old 
masters than has been shown by any student of modern times. 
He studied pictorial anatomy diligently, modelled in clay, and 
never ceased his practice in drawing. 

He thus expresses his reverence for the old masters : 
"It is needless to say how I was affected by Eaffaele, the 
greatest master of the affections in our art. In beauty he has 
often been surpassed, but in grace — the native grace of character 
— in the expression of intellect, and, above all, sanctity, he has 
no equal. What particularly struck me in his works, was the 
genuine life (if I may so call it) that seemed, without impairing 
the distinctive character, to pervade them all ; for even his hum- 
blest figures have a something, either in look, air, or gesture, akin 
to the venustas of his own nature, as if, like living beings under 
the influence of a master spirit, they had partaken, in spite of 
themselves, a portion of the charm which swayed them. This 
power of infusing one's own life, as it were, into that which is 
feigned, appears to me the sole prerogative of genius. In a work 
of art, this is what a man may well call his own, for it cannot be 



60 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

borrowed or imitated. Of Michael Angelo, I do not know how to 
speak in adequate terms of reverence. With all his faults (but who 
is without them) even Raffaele bows before him. As I stood be- 
neath his colossal prophets and sybils, still more colossal in spirit, 
I felt as if in the presence of messengers from the other world, 
with the destiny of man in their breath, in repose even terrible. 
I cannot agree with Sir Joshua that ' The Vision of Ezekiel,' of 
Raffaele, or ' The Moses,' of Parmegiano, have anything in com- 
mon with Michael Angelo. Their admiration of Michael Angelo 
may have elevated their forms into a more dignified and ma- 
jestic race, but still left them men, whose feet had never 
trod other than this earth. The supernatural was beyond the 
reach of both. But no one could mistake the prophets of 
Michael Angelo for inhabitants of our world ; yet they are true 
to the imagination, as the beings about us are to the senses. 
I am not undervaluing these great artists when I deny them 
a kindred genius with Michael Angelo; they had both genius 
of their own, and high qualities which nature had denied the 
other." 

Toward the end of the year Allston was joined by Vanderlyn, 
and they were the only American students in Rome. Of his 
fellow-students and comrades, and of distinguished foreigners 
resident in Eome at that time, Sweetser, in his " Washington 
Allston," says : " Vanderlyn has told us how he and Allston, 
Turner, and Fenimore Cooper, frequented the famous Caffe" 
Greco, the resort of the northern barbarians in Eome for so many 
decades. There, too, were to be seen Thorwaldsen and Cor- 
nelius, Anderson and Louis of Bavaria, Flaxman and Gibson, 
Shelley, Keats, and Byron. Thorwaldsen could hardly have been 
a student with Allston, as some assert, for he had been in Borne 
eight years when the latter arrived, and had already won rich 
pecuniary rewards and the praise of Canova. Nevertheless 
he was a friend of the American artist, and often in after-years 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 61 

pointed to him as a proof that the loftiest abilities were indigen- 
ous to the Western world. 

"Another group of eminent persons then living in Rome, 
and accessible to the young Carolinian, was gathered around 
William von Humboldt, the Prussian ambassador, and Alexan- 
der von Humboldt, who had just returned from his travels 
among the South American Andes. The Danish envoy, Baron 
von Schubert, and the Neapolitan envoy, Cardinal Fesch, were 
also members of the artistic society of the city. Madame de 
Stael was living there at the same time, also A. W. von Schlegel 
and Sismondi. During this period the city was continually 
menaced by the armies of Napoleon, which had occupied several 
of the papal provinces." 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Washington Irving, and Washing- 
ton Allston, met the first time in Eome in 1805, and soon be- • 
came intimate. They were young men diverse in temperament, 
in character, and in pursuits ; having little observable similarity, 
save in the healthful vigor of early manhood, yet attracted to 
each other by a moral magnetism, such as binds together kindred 
souls despite the varying circumstances and influences of life. 
Different, yet inseparable, these young men traversed the streets 
of the " Eternal City." Could their conversations, as from day 
to day they wandered in and about Rome, be recalled and written, 
we should unquestionably have a record of great interest, rich in 
poetry, in philosophy, and historic truth. 

Doubtless much of the subject-matter of those conversations 
in and about Rome would, through Coleridge, have found its 
way to the public, but for an unfortunate incident in connection 
with his return to England, in the summer of 1806. He had in- 
tended to go by way of Switzerland and Germany, but being 
somewhat apprehensive of danger on account of the movements 
of the French troops, took the precaution to ask the advice of 
Ambassador von Humboldt; he advised Coleridge to avoid 



62 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Bonaparte, who was meditating the seizure of his person, and 
had already sent to Borne an order for his arrest, which was with- 
held from execution by the connivance of the good old Pope, 
Pius VII., who sent him a passport, and counselled his imme- 
diate flight by way of Leghorn. Accordingly he hastened to 
that port, where he found an American vessel ready to sail for 
England, and embarked. On the voyage they were chased by a 
French sail ; the captain, becoming alarmed, commanded Cole- 
ridge to throw his papers, including his notes on Eome, over- 
board. 

As Traill, in his "Life of Coleridge," informs us, "The 
animosity of the First Consul was directed against Coleridge 
in consequence of the statement of Mr. Fox in the House of 
Commons, that the rupture of the peace at Amiens had been 
brought about by certain articles in the Morning Post These 
articles were written by Coleridge, and, as his biographer re- 
marks, in answer to a certain writer in Blackwood, "There 
is certainly no reason to believe that a tyrant, whose animosity 
against literary or quasi-literary assailants ranged from Madame 
de Stael down to the bookseller Palm, would have regarded a 
man of Coleridge's reputation as beneath the swoop of his ven- 
geance." 

It cannot be doubted by those who know Coleridge's high 
appreciation of Allston, that in those manuscripts, lost through 
the fright of the captain, there were many allusions to the seven 
months of daily intercourse with a spirit so in accord with his 
own in its culture, and in poetic and philosophic thought ; we can- 
not but think that in his impressions of Rome, Coleridge would 
have risen to the height of his finest efforts. He was at his best ; 
he had reached the maturity of his intellectual power ; although 
he had commenced the fatal habit which a few years later was 
so painfully evident, it had not yet become apparent even to his 
companions. It had made no visible inroads upon his body or 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 63 

mind. Relieved as he was of financial embarrassment by a 
certain though small annuity, with the invigorating influence of 
change of scene, change of air, and inspiring companionship, we 
are justified in believing that the lost notes would have added 
an important contribution to the scanty exhibitions of his best. 
One whose work was so often fragmentary and incomplete, one 
so irresolute and inconstant, in a career so brief could ill afford 
to lose any work performed under stimulation so auspicious, in 
the zenith of his powers. 

No inconsiderable influence must have been exerted by Cole- 
ridge, Irving, and Allston upon each other during their intimacy 
in Rome. The character of each must have been to some extent 
moulded by the others. Doubtless they were beneficiaries all ; 
fine natures, cultivated as they were, have much to give and are 
always ready to receive. Perhaps none received more than he 
gave, so balanced were they in natural gifts and qualities. Of 
Coleridge, however, it may be said that his nature had in it more 
of the aggressive than belonged either to Allston or Irving. He 
was the senior and, in a sense, the primate ; the leader and chief 
speaker of the trio. It may indeed be questioned whether there 
has ever lived his superior in the oral use of language — in capti- 
vating fluency and brilliancy of speech. 

In a conversation with Mr. Albert Mathews, of New York, S. 
F. B. Morse, referring to the fluency for which Coleridge was so 
celebrated, said : "When Leslie and I were studying under All- 
ston, Coleridge was a frequent, almost daily, visitor to our studio. 
For our entertainment while painting, we used to arrange in 
advance some question in which we were interested, and pro- 
pound it to Coleridge upon his coming in. This was quite suf- 
ficient, and never failed to start him off on a monologue to which 
we could listen with pleasure and profit throughout the entire 
sitting." His mind was exhaustless, and his power to interest 
was always at command. 



64 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Alls ton said : " To no other man do I owe so much intellect- 
ually as to Mr. Coleridge, with whom I became acquainted in 
Rome, and who has honored me with his friendship for more 
than five and twenty years. He used to call Rome ' the silent 
city,' but I could never think of it as such while with him, 
for meet him when and where I would, the fountain of his 
mind was never dry, but, like the far-reaching aqueducts that 
once supplied this mistress of the world, its living stream 
seemed specially to flow for every classic ruin over which we 
wandered; and when I recall some of our walks under the 
pines of the Villa Borghese, I am almost tempted to dream 
that I have once listened to Plato in the groves of the Acad- 
emy." 

Allston loved the classic beauty of Greece in her sculptured 
forms. He partook of the spirit of the men who reared her tem- 
ples, and chiselled her immortal statues. The chaste dignity, 
the purity, and elegance of the Doric ; the ornate simplicity of 
the Corinthian and Ionic, appealed to him as to one educated 
in the schools of Phidias, Myron, and Polycletus, in the splendid 
era of Pericles. No child of Attica was ever more sensitively 
alive to the pure, refining, and inspiring influences of her marble 
forms. The tendency of his mind was toward the statuesque, 
simple, majestic, beautiful, ornate without filigree, rich without 
an intimation of the sensuous or voluptuous. To the ordinary 
observer, the Farnese Hercules is a grand statue of the demi- 
god of Greece, exceedingly impressive in its semblance of 
majesty and power. To him it was the immortal offspring of 
its author. It had survived the rise and fall of nations. It 
was immortal, he said, because of its integrity to the highest 
principles of art, which made it the embodiment and visible 
image of truth. It was something more than an exaggeration 
of the human form. Though of mortal mould, it possessed 
more than mortal powers, and he tells us that while stand- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 65 

ing before it lie felt its essential life, as if he were in the pres- 
ence of a superior being. 1 

The Apollo Belvedere, to many who view it, is an extremely 
graceful figure, with faultless proportions, of a young man with 
his left hand extended, holding a bow, while his right hand, 
which has apparently just left the string, is near his hip — noth- 
ing more. To him it was immeasurably more — more, we might 
almost say, than its author intended. In speaking of this statue, 
Allston says : "In this supernal being the human form seems 
to have been assumed as if to make visible the harmonious con- 
fluence of the pure ideas of grace, fleetness, and majesty ; nor 
do we think it too fanciful to add, celestial splendor, for such in 
effect are the thoughts which crowd, or rather rush, into the 
mind on first beholding it. Who that saw it in what may be 
called the place of its glory, the Gallery of Napoleon, ever 
thought of it as a man, much less as a statue ? But did not feel, 
rather, as if the vision before him was one of another world — 
of one who had just lighted on the earth, and with a step so 
ethereal that the next instant he would vault into the air. If," he 
continues, "I may be permitted to recall the impression which 
it made on myself, I know not how I could better describe 
it than as a sudden intellectual flash filling the whole mind with 
light and light in motion. It seemed to the mind what the first 
sight of the sun is to the senses, as it emerges from the ocean; 
when from a point of light the whole orb at once appears to 
bound from the waters and to dart its rays, as by a visible ex- 
plosion, through the profound of space." 

The charge that Coleridge endeavored to draw Allston from 
his love of Greek art has, we think, no sufficient foundation, 
though in conversation upon the comparative beauties of Greek 
and Gothic styles, he once said to Allston : " Grecian archi- 

1 Lectures on Art, p. 99. 



$6 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

tecture is a thing, but the Gothic is an idea." And then ad- 
ded : " I can make a Grecian temple of two brick-bats and a 
cocked hat." Unquestionably he preferred the Gothic, for obvi- 
ous and sufficient reasons. 

The Gothic in its richest development was the outcome of the 
Middle Ages. Its composite beauty grew and expanded under 
the encouragement and patronage of the Church ; it was the out- 
growth of that ecclesiasticism which appealed to the religious 
sentiment through visible forms. As thus, a part of the Church, 
Coleridge loved and revered it. To him the Gothic was Chris- 
tian ; the Greek, Pagan. In commending the Gothic, he seemed 
to feel the enthusiasm of one who was contending for the su- 
premacy of the Christian faith. 

It were unjust to suppose that Coleridge was insensible to 
Grecian beauty; Plato and Socrates could charm his intellect, 
but Christ and the Church captivated his heart and soul. Mon- 
uments of Greek art appealed to his sense of beauty and gave 
him pleasure, but the Gothic touched his sense of worship, and 
revealed to his chastened imagination a higher beauty ; to him 
the one was earthly, the other heavenly. 



CHAPTEE YI. 

IRVING IN ALLSTON'S STUDIO. — HIS DESIEE TO BECOME A PAINTER. 
— HIS SKETCH OF ALLSTON. — PARTICULARS OF THEIR INTI- 
MACY. — " belshazzar's FEAST." — ALLSTON'S OWN DESCRIPTION 
OF HIS DESIGN. — " JACOB'S DREAM." — SUCCESS IN ENGLAND. 

Irving's influence was genial and beneficent in all directions. 
His admiration for the young artist was true and profound. 
Allston's studio was to him a temple wherein was enshrined the 
purest spirit of art, and to it his emotional nature paid daily 
homage. So engrossed was he in this worship, that at one time, 
as he tells us, he seriously contemplated devoting himself to art 
as his pursuit in life ; but encouragement in the direction of a 
literary career finally prevailed. Whether the world has lost by 
his decision, who can say ? Allston was his ideal of a true artist 
in character and attainment, and it is not strange that Irving's 
imaginative and fervid nature should have inclined him to en- 
ter the path to fame in which his friend was making so great 
progress. 

Speaking of Allston, he said: "The pleasure he derives 
from his own thoughts is so great that he seems to forget that 
there is anything to do but to think." In this brief sentence we 
have the key to Allston's inner life and character. His mind, 
filled with images of beauty and constructive plans, did, as it 
were, feed upon itself, apparently well satisfied in reverie to 
while away the hours that might have been devoted to more 
tangible work. When the creative power of imagination is so 
great as to construct a world for itself from which all that is of- 



68 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

fensive is excluded, and where only forms of beauty enter, it is 
but natural to forget and neglect the outer and material, the pres- 
ent, tangible, and hard world in which we struggle for existence. 
We can hardly blame him for preferring to dream his time away 
in that which was to him a real Elysium, rather than cope with 
adversity in the business and turmoil of ordinary daily life. 
We should not conclude from this, however, that Allston was an 
idler ; nothing could be further from the truth. The charge of 
idleness has been made as accounting for the comparatively 
small number of pictures left by him. We shall consider this 
charge further on. 

The following sketch by Irving, published with his " Miscel- 
lanies," is a tribute so beautiful and comprehensive, that were 
nothing further written of Allston, this alone would embalm his 
memory in the best literature of the day. It is so admirable and 
interesting a vindication of our purpose in this biography, that 
we give it in full : 

" I first became acquainted with Washington Allston early in 
the spring of 1805. He had just arrived from France, I from 
Sicily and Naples. I was then not quite twenty-two years of 
age, he a little older. There was something, to me, inexpres- 
sibly engaging in the appearance and manners of Allston. I do 
not think I have ever been more completely captivated on a first 
acquaintance. He was of a light and graceful form, with large 
blue eyes, and black, silken hair waving and curling round a 
pale, expressive countenance. Everything about him bespoke 
the man of intellect and refinement. His conversation was copi- 
ous, animated, and highly graphic ; warmed by a genial sensibil- 
ity and benevolence, and enlivened at times by a chaste and gentle 
humor. A young man's intimacy took place immediately between 
us, and we were much together during my brief sojourn at Rome. 
He was taking a general view of the place before settling himself 
down to his professional studies. We visited together some of 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 69 

the finest collections of paintings, and lie taught me how to visit 
them to the most advantage, guiding me always to the master- 
pieces, and passing by the others without notice. ' El ever attempt 
to enjoy every picture in a great collection,' he would say, ' unless 
you have a year to bestow upon it. You may as well attempt to 
enjoy every dish in a Lord Mayor's feast. Both mind and palate 
get confounded by a great variety and rapid succession, even of 
delicacies. The mind can only take in a certain number of 
images and impressions distinctly ; by multiplying the number 
you weaken each and render the whole confused and vague. 
Study the choice piece in each collection ; look upon none else, 
and you will afterward find them hanging up in your memory. 

" He was exquisitely sensible to the graceful and the beauti- 
ful, and took great delight in paintings which excelled in color ; 
yet he was strongly moved and roused by objects of grandeur. I 
well recollect the admiration with which he contemplated the 
statue of 'Moses,' by Michael Angelo, and his mute awe and 
reverence on entering the stupendous pile of St. Peter's. Indeed, 
the sentiment of veneration so characteristic of the elevated and 
poetic mind was continually manifested by him. His eyes would 
dilate; his pale countenance would flush; he would breathe 
quick, and almost gasp in expressing his feelings when excited 
by any object of grandeur and sublimity. 

" We had delightful rambles together about Eome and its 
environs, one of which came near changing my whole course of 
life. We had been visiting a stately villa, with its gallery of 
paintings, its marble halls, its terraced gardens set out with 
statues and fountains, and were returning to Eome about sunset. 
The blandness of the air, the serenity of the sky, the transparent 
purity of the atmosphere, and that nameless charm which hangs 
about an Italian landscape, had derived additional effect from 
being enjoyed in company with Allston, and pointed out by him 
with the enthusiasm of an artist. As I listened to him and gazed 



70 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

upon the landscape, I drew in my mind a contrast between our 
different pursuits and prospects. He was to reside among these 
delightful scenes, surrounded by masterpieces of art, by classic 
and historic monuments, by men of congenial minds and tastes, 
engaged like him in the constant study of the sublime and beau- 
tiful. I was to return home to the dry study of the law, for 
which I had no relish, and as I feared, but little talent. 

" Suddenly the thought presented itself : ' Why might I not 
remain here and turn painter ? ' I had taken lessons in drawing 
before leaving America, and had been thought to have had some 
aptness, as I certainly had a strong inclination, for it. I men- 
tioned the idea to Allston, and he caught at it with eagerness. 
Nothing could be more feasible. We would take an apartment 
together. He would give me all the instruction and assistance 
in his power, and was sure I would succeed. For two or three 
days the idea took full possession of my mind ; but I believed it 
owed its main force to the lovely evening ramble in which I first 
conceived it, and to the romantic friendship I had formed with 
Allston. Whenever it recurred to mind it was always connected 
with beautiful Italian scenery, palaces, and statues, and fountains, 
and terraced gardens, and Allston as the companion of my 
studio. I promised myself a world of enjoyment in his society, 
and in the society of several artists with whom he had made me 
acquainted, and pictured forth a scheme of life, all tinted with 
the rainbow hues of youthful promise. 

" My lot in life, however, was differently cast. Doubts and 
fears gradually clouded over my prospects; the rainbow tints 
faded away ; I began to apprehend a sterile reality ; so I gave up 
the transient but delightful prospect of remaining in Eome with 
Allston and turning painter. 

" My next meeting with Allston was in America, after he had 
finished his studies in Italy, but as we resided in different cities, 
we saw each other only occasionally. Our intimacy was closer 






WASHINGTON ALLS TON 71 

some years afterward, when we were both in England. I then 
saw a great deal of him during my visits to London, where he 
and Leslie resided together. Allston was dejected in spirits 
from the loss of his wife, but I thought a dash of melancholy had 
increased the amiable and winning graces of his character. I used 
to pass long evenings with him and Leslie ; indeed Allston, if 
anyone would keep him company, would sit up until cock crow- 
ing, and it was hard to break away from the charms of his con- 
versation. He was an admirable story-teller ; for a ghost story 
none could surpass him. He acted the story as well as told it. 

" I have seen some anecdotes of him in the public papers, 
which represent him in a state of indigence and almost despair, 
until rescued by the sale of one of his paintings. This is an ex- 
aggeration. I subjoin an extract or two from his letters to me, 
relating to his most important pictures. The first, dated May 
9, 1817, was addressed to me at Liverpool, where he supposed I 
was about to embark for the United States. 

" ' Your sudden resolution of embarking for America has 
quite thrown me, to use a sea phrase, all aback. I have so many 
things to tell you of, to consult you about, etc., and am such a 
sad correspondent, that before I can bring my pen to do its office, 
'tis a hundred to one that the vexations for which your advice 
would be wished will have passed and gone. One of these sub- 
jects (and the most important) is the large picture I talked of 
soon beginning ; the Prophet Daniel interpreting the handwrit- 
ing on the wall before Belshazzar. I have made a highly finished 
sketch of it, and wished much to have your remarks on it. But 
as your sudden departure will deprive me of this advantage, I 
must beg, should any hints on the subject occur to you during 
your voyage, that you will favor me with them, at the same time 
you let me know that you are again safe in our good country. I 
think the composition the best I ever made. It contains a mul- 
titude of figures, and (if I may be allowed to say it) they are 



72 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

without confusion. Don't you think it a fine subject? I know 
not any that so happily unites the magnificent and the awful. A 
mighty sovereign surrounded by his whole court, intoxicated with 
his own state, in the midst of his revellings, palsied in a moment 
under the spell of a preternatural hand suddenly tracing his 
doom on the wall before him ; his powerless limbs like a 
wounded spider's shrunk up to his body, while his heart, com- 
pressed to a point, is only kept from vanishing by the terrified 
suspense that animates it during the interpretation of his mys- 
terious sentence. His less guilty, but scarcely less agitated, 
queen, the panic-struck courtiers and concubines, the splendid 
and deserted banquet - table, the half - arrogant, half - astounded 
magicians, the holy vessels of the temple (shining, as it were, in 
triumph through the gloom), and the calm, solemn contrast of the 
prophet, standing like an animated pillar in the midst, breathing 
forth the oracular destruction of the Empire ! The picture will 
be twelve feet high by seventeen feet long. Should I succeed in 
it to my wishes, I know not what may be its fate ; but I leave the 
future to Providence. Perhaps I may send it to America.' 

" The next letter from Allston, which remains in my posses- 
sion, is dated London, March 13th, 1818. In the interim he 
had visited Paris in company with Leslie and Newton ; the fol- 
lowing extract gives the result of the excitement caused by a 
study of the masterpieces of the Louvre. 

" ' Since my return from Paris, I have painted two pictures in 
order to have something in the present exhibition at the British 
Gallery ; the subjects, "The Angel Uriel in the Sun," and "Elijah 
in the Wilderness." " Uriel " was immediately purchased at the 
price I asked, one hundred and fifty guineas, by the Marquis of 
Stafford ; and the Directors of the British Institution, moreover, 
presented me a donation of one hundred and fifty pounds, as a 
mark of their approbation of the talent evinced, etc. The man- 
ner in which this was done was highly complimentary, and I can 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 73 

only say it was fully as gratifying as it was unexpected. As both 
these pictures together cost me but ten weeks, I do not regret 
haying deducted that time from the " Belshazzar," to whom I 
have since returned with redoubled vigor. I am sorry I did not 
exhibit " Jacob's Dream." If I had dreamed of this success I 
certainly would have sent it there.' 

" Leslie, in a letter to me, speaks of the picture of ' Uriel 
Seated in the Sun : ' ' The figure is colossal, the attitude and air 
very noble, and the form heroic without being overcharged. In 
the color he has been equally successful, and with a very rich 
and glowing tone, he has avoided positive colors which would 
have made him too material. There is neither red, blue, nor 
yellow in the picture, and yet it possesses a harmony equal to 
the best pictures of Paul Veronese. ' 

" The picture made what is called a ' decided hit,' and pro- 
duced a great sensation, being pronounced worthy of the old 
masters. Attention was immediately called to the artist. The 
Earl of Egremont, a great connoisseur and patron of the arts, 
sought him in his studio, eager for any production from his pen- 
cil. He found an admirable picture there, of which he became 
the glad possessor. The following extract is from Allston's let- 
ter to me on the subject : 

" ' Leslie tells me he has informed you of the sale of 
" Jacob's Dream." I do not remember if you have seen it. The 
manner in which Lord Egremont bought it was particularly 
gratifying — to say nothing of the price, which is no trifle to me 
at present. But Leslie having told you all about it, I will not 
repeat it. Indeed, by the account he gives me of his letter to you, 
he seems to have puffed me off in grand style. Well, you know 
I don't bribe him to do it, and if they will buckle praise upon 
my back, why, I can't help it ! Leslie has just finished a very 
beautiful little picture of Anne Page inviting Master Slender into 
the house. Anne is exquisite, soft, and feminine, yet arch and 



74 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

playful. She is all she should be. Slender, also, is very happy ; 
he is a good parody on Milton's "linked sweetness long drawn 
out." Falstaff and Shallow are seen through a window in the 
background. The whole scene is very picturesque and beautifully 
painted. 'Tis his best picture. You must not think this praise 
the " return in kind." I give it because I really admire the 
picture, and I have not the smallest doubt that he will do great 
things when he is once freed from the necessity of painting por- 
traits.' 

" Lord Egremont was equally well pleased with the artist as 
with his works, and invited him to his noble seat at Petworth, 
where it was his delight to dispense his hospitalities to men of 
genius. The road to fame and fortune was now open to Allston ; 
he had but to remain in England and follow up the signal im- 
pression he had made. Unfortunately, previous to this recent 
success, he had been disheartened by domestic affliction, and by 
the uncertainty of his pecuniary prospects, and had made ar- 
rangements to return to America. I arrived in London a few 
days before his departure, full of literary schemes, and delighted 
with the idea of our pursuing our several arts in fellowship. It 
was a sad blow to me to have this day-dream again dispelled. I 
urged him to remain and complete his grand painting of ' Bel- 
shazzar's Feast,' the study of which gave promise of the highest 
kind of excellence. Some of the best patrons of the art were 
equally urgent. He was not to be persuaded, and I saw him de- 
part with still deeper and more painful regret than I had parted 
with him in our youthful days at Rome. I think our separation 
was a loss to both of us — to me a grievous one. The companion- 
ship of such a man was invaluable. For his own part, had he 
remained in England a few years longer, surrounded by every- 
thing to encourage and stimulate him, I have no doubt he would 
have been at the head of his art. He appeared to me to pos- 
sess more than any contemporary the spirit of the old masters ; 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 75 

and his merits were becoming widely appreciated. After his de- 
parture he was unanimously elected a member of the Royal 
Academy. 

" The next time I saw him was twelve years afterward, on my 
return to America, when I visited him at his studio at Cam- 
bridge, in Massachusetts, and found him, in the gray evening of 
life, apparently much retired from the world, and his grand 
picture of ' Belshazzar's Feast ' yet unfinished. To the last he 
appeared to retain all those elevated, refined, and gentle quali- 
ties which first endeared him to me. Such are a few particulars 
of my intimacy with Allston — a man whose memory I hold in 
reverence and affection as one of the purest, noblest, and most 
intellectual beings that ever honored me with his friendship." 



CHAPTEE VII. 

LETTER FROM COLERIDGE. — LONDON AGAIN. — RETURN TO BOSTON. — 
MARRIAGE. — RETURN TO EUROPE WITH MORSE. — MORSE'S OPINION 
OF ALLSTON. 

The following letter was written to Allston, by Coleridge, on 
June 17, 1806, while he was en route for Leghorn : 

" My Dear Allston : No want of affection has occasioned 
my silence. Day after day I expected Mr. Wallis. Benvenuti 
received me with almost insulting coldness, not even asking me 
to sit down, neither could I, by any inquiry, find that he ever re- 
turned my call ; and even in answer to a very polite note in- 
quiring for letters, sent a verbal message that there was one, and 
I might call for it. However, within the last seven or eight 
days, he has called and made this amende honorable ; he says he 
forgot the name of my inn, and called at two or three in vain. 
"Whoo ! I did not tell him that within five days I sent him a 
note in which the inn was mentioned, and that he sent me a 
message in consequence, and yet never called for ten days after- 
ward. However, yester evening the truth came out. He had 
been bored by letters of recommendation, and, till he received a 
letter from Mr. M , looked upon me as a bore — which, how- 
ever, he might and ought to have got rid of in a more gentle- 
manly manner. Nothing more was necessary than the. day 
after my arrival to have sent his card by his servant. But I 
forgive him from my heart. It should, however, be a lesson to 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 77 

Mr. Wallis, to whom, and for whom, he gives letters of [intro- 
duction]. 

" I have been dangerously ill for the last fortnight, and un- 
well enough, heaven knows, previously ; about ten days ago, on 
rising from my bed, I had a manifest stroke of palsy along my 
right side and right arm ; my head felt like another man's head, 
so dead was it, that I seemed to know it only by my left hand 
and a strange sense of numbness. Violent attempts to vomit, 
each effort accompanied by involuntary and terrific screams. 
Enough of it, continual vexations and preyings upon the spirit. 
I gave life to my children, and they have repeatedly given it to 
me, for, by the Maker of all things, but for them I would try my » 
chance. But they pluck out the wing-feathers from the mind. I 
have not entirely recovered the sense of my side or hand, but have 
recovered the use. I am harassed by local and partial fevers. 

" This day, at noon, we set off for Leghorn ; all passage 
through the Italian states and Germany is little other than im- 
possible for an Englishman, and heaven knows whether Leghorn 
may not be blockaded. However, we go thither, and shall go to 
England in an American ship. . . . 

" My dear Allston, somewhat from increasing age, but more 
from calamity and intense [painful] affections, my heart is not 
open to more than kind, good wishes in general. To you, and 
you alone, since I have left England, I have felt more, and had 
I not known the Wordsworths, should have esteemed and loved 
you first and most ; and as it is, next to them I love and honor 
you. Heaven knows, a part of such a wreck as my head and 
heart is scarcely worth your acceptance. 

"S. T. Coleridge." 

The foregoing letter is interesting as indicating the great 
physical suffering endured by Coleridge. He seemed peculiarly 
sensitive to pain, both bodily and mental, and one can hardly 
condemn the use of opiates in a case like his. Doubtless he 



78 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

struggled to resist the control of the narcotic which brought im- 
munity so desirable, and moral delinquency cannot be justly 
charged to any habit growing out of, and continually induced by, 
the impulse to escape pain. With Coleridge this impulse was 
so recurrent that the drug might well have been regarded by 
him as necessary medication. It is unjust to accuse such a man 
of the habitual use of opium, simply from a love of its pleasing, 
dreamy influence. 

Two years after Coleridge was in Leghorn, Allston himself 
was there. He was now twenty-eight years old. His studies 
and travels had given breadth and finish to the abundant gifts 
wherewith nature had endowed him. Few, if any, were better 
qualified to teach or practise art. "Writing to Vanderlyn, from 
Leghorn, he concurs with him about a certain picture then on 
exhibition in Rome, and makes very clear an important distinc- 
tion between that which can be taught and that which cannot. 
He virtually insists that the most important and effective part of 
a picture is that which nature alone teaches. Much may be 
learned of man, but more is given by nature. Teaching is but 
the directing of faculties already possessed. The amount of the 
natural gift measures and foretells the degree of attainment pos- 
sible to the pupil. 

He says : " Your observations on the famous picture which 
made such a noise at Rome are exactly such as I expected from 
you. If you think it any compliment, I give them my approba- 
tion, which I conceive may be readily honored, from my little 
knowledge of art and greater knowledge of man — both of them 
convincing me of the impossibility of effecting at will a total 
change of style no less than of manners. Depend upon it, no 
man who possesses from nature a true feeling for color could 
ever have prevailed on himself to live to the age of forty in total 
neglect of it. The first may teach a man to draw a correct out- 
line — I mean after a model ; may teach him to put figures to- 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 79 

gether so they may appear neither awkward nor embarrassed ; to 
dispose of light and shadow so as to correspond with common 
reason ; but to the last alone is reserved the province of feeling 
and expressing the beauty of form, of painting the soul, of giv- 
ing life and motion to a group, and expression and harmony and 
magic to the mystery of chiaro-oscuro." 

The troublous times in Europe, the disturbances of war, 
which had driven Coleridge from Eome, began to alarm American 
citizens abroad, and Allston felt that he must return to America 
while he could escape possible forced detention. His heart 
influenced him strongly to the determination to return, but lit- 
tle was required to make him believe in accordance with his 
wishes, for apprehensions enforced by the affections grow rap- 
idly. Toward the end of the letter quoted above, he says : 

" Perhaps you will be surprised to find me so soon on my 
way home. The truth is, the situation of my country, as it now 
respects Europe, makes me apprehend a loss of our neutrality. 
Perhaps I look too far ; but a man who is expected home by his 
bride is not likely to risk so much as one who is so occupied by 
the whole sex together as to think of no one in particular. I 
therefore thought it prudent, though six months before it may 
be necessary, to cross the Atlantic while I was permitted. I 
hope your ' Marius ' is safe arrived. My cases are all here, but 
they will not accompany me. I shall take only ' Cupid and 
Psyche ' and the little ' Falstaff.' What queer times for a 
painter ! " 

Coleridge and Irving had left Allston in Home, and carried 
his praises with them to London. At a dinner party, where 
Northcote and Lamb were present, Coleridge entertained the 
party by a very interesting account of the young American 
artist whom he had met in Eome. Northcote, who did not en- 
joy listening to praises bestowed on others, interrupted Cole- 
ridge, saying : "I have no doubt this Mr. Allston is a very great 



80 WASHINGTON" ALLSTON 

artist, as Mr. Coleridge sayes he is, but it is rayther remarkable 
that we never heerd of him before." Coleridge related this table- 
talk to Allston on his return to London, much to his amusement. 
Subsequently, when engaged on his picture of " The Dead Man 
Kevived," which was already highly spoken of in art circles, 
Northcote mentioned the picture to an artist friend, and asked 
him if it was really as fine as they said it was. The artist re- 
plied that he had seen it, and thought it well deserved all that 
had been said of it. Northcote rejoined, "Well, then, you think 
he means to coot me out ? " His arrogant and selfish nature 
could not brook a rival. Upon one occasion, when Allston him- 
self called upon Northcote, in the course of conversation he re- 
marked that he had heard a book recently published by him 
highly spoken of. " By some artist, I suppose ? " said North- 
cote, sneeringly. " No," replied Allston ; " by a literary man." 
" Ah," said he, in a jubilant tone, " why, you delight me." 

Speaking of George the Third, and Sir Joshua Reynolds, his 
old master, and perhaps the only living artist for whom he had 
any great admiration, he said that Sir Joshua Reynolds was very 
little troubled with royal patronage. The King, he said, could 
not afford to ignore so great an artist as Sir Joshua, and accord- 
ingly sat to him for his portrait, but that once was sufficient for 
the King, as he could not endure the presence of so great a man. 
Subsequently Northcote himself painted a portrait of the King, 
and on hearing it complimented said he was glad to have been 
successful, for he considered George the Third one of the best 
sovereigns England had produced, for all England required or 
needed in a king was a figure to put robes on. Northcote did 
not relish the idea of Allston dividing the palm with him in 
England ; he considered himself as outranking all artists of the 
kingdom, excepting only his great teacher, Sir Joshua. 

In 1809 Allston returned from Europe to Boston. He brought 
with him the prestige of foreign travel, in those days an impor- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 81 

tant factor in the reputation of an artist. He also brought with 
him no inconsiderable distinction achieved by his work in Eng- 
land and on the Continent. The great praise awarded him by 
Coleridge and Irving had found its way across the ocean and 
prepared a cordial reception for him in Boston, the city of his 
adoption. Boston was endeared to him by many associations 
connected with his college life in Cambridge. There many friend- 
ships had taken root, and he was held by unnumbered pleasant 
memories to that home of his early manhood where his happiest 
years were spent. The rekindling of early friendships afforded 
him the keenest pleasure. The old road from Boston to Cam- 
bridge was picturesque with recollections of the past, and in all 
directions pleasant greeting welcomed him, attentions were lav- 
ishly bestowed, men of fortune and of letters were continually 
inviting him to their houses, vying with each other in civilities 
inspired by admiration for the young artist. His works had 
already given him such notoriety that his promise of fame was 
beginning to be regarded by Bostonians as the property of his 
country, a kind of national endowment of which all should be 
proud. 

The regard in which Allston was held for his ability as an 
artist is not to be accounted for by assuming that there was no 
one in America to compete with him. There were strong men in 
art here, even then ; Stuart, Yanderlyn, Jarvis, and Trumbull are 
names of great eminence. They were then at the height of their 
fame, acknowledged and liberally patronized. It was in the re- 
flex of Allston's English reputation, and in his pleasing person- 
ality, that we find the secret of the appreciation in which he was 
held in Boston at that early day. 

During this visit he was married to Miss Ann Channing, to 
whom he had long been engaged. She was the daughter of "Will- 
iam Channing, a lawyer of eminence in Newport, and grand- 
daughter of William Ellery, one of the signers of the Declaration 
6 



82 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

of Independence. In a letter to his grandfather, her brother, the 
celebrated William EHery Channing, thus speaks of the mar- 
riage : 

" A few hours ago "Washington and Ann, after their long and 
patient courtship, were united in marriage. Your granddaughter 
has found, I believe, an excellent husband, one who from prin- 
ciple and affection will make her happiness his constant object. 
I hope that she will settle at no great distance from us, but we 
have not yet sufficient taste for the arts to give Mr. Allston the 
encouragement he deserves. " 

Miss Channing was thirty-one years of age when she married. 
She was a woman of pleasing manners and personal beauty. 
The influence of her life upon her husband was beneficent and 
wifely. The effect of her early death was disastrous and irrep- 
arable. But we must not anticipate events which belong to a 
later stage of our work. 

During his brief sojourn in America, on the occasion of his 
marriage, Allston painted some of his finest portraits, among 
which was that of his mother, now in the possession of Mr. Cor- 
nelius Yanderbilt, whose wife is Allston's grand-niece ; one of 
his brother-in-law, Dr. Channing, and also his beautiful picture, 
" The Valentine," painted from a pencil drawing of his wife. 
Immediately after his marriage he visited his mother, who was 
at New Haven with her son, his half-brother, Henry C. Flagg, 
then a student at Yale. At this period one of his occupations, 
or, we might say, pleasures, was poetic composition. His genius 
overflowed in verse. The poetic spirit, like the play fund in the 
child, was natural to him, and not to be repelled. Indifferent as 
to the medium, through pen or brush, it constantly flow T ed. His 
poems delighted his friends, to whom he read them, from time 
to time, as he would show a picture. In 1811 he was invited to 
read a poem before the Phi Beta Kappa, of Harvard College, 
which was highly praised. His classmate, Leonard Jarvis, in a 






Portrait of Allstoris Mother. 

From the original in the possession of Cornelius Vanderbilt, of New York. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 83 

letter to R. H. Dana, Sr., from which we have already quoted, 
referring to his meeting with Allston on the occasion of this 
visit, thus writes : 

" After we graduated, in 1800, I lost sight of my friend un- 
til he returned to this country in 1809. We met unexpectedly 
on Congress Street, Boston ; our greeting was most cordial, and 
our former intimacy was at once renewed. He soon engaged a 
room in an old building where the granite erections of Brattle 
Street now are, which had been previously occupied by Johnson, 
the portrait-painter. Here he painted a portrait of your- brother 
Edmund,* for which he sat so often and so long that Welles 
drolly asked him one day whether he did not think such a sed- 
entary life would be injuring his health. Here, too, he painted 
a sea-piece, and also ' Catherine and Petruchio,' and the ' Poor 
Author's Yisit to the Rich Bookseller.' 

" He occupied this room at the time of his marriage, in 1809, 
and here I found him, on the morning after his nuptials, at his 
usual hour, engaged at his customary occupation. While he oc- 
cupied this room, as I had a leisure interval between my trans- 
atlantic excursions, I passed much of my time with him, and 
found him the same unsophisticated, pure-minded, artless, gentle 
being that I had known at college. He had the same oddities, 
the same tastes, and the only change I could discover was that 
his diffidence had increased with his years. I mean his diffi- 
dence in the company of ladies, for of his own powers as an 
artist he never entertained a doubt. It was impossible that he 
should not be conscious of his extraordinary genius, but he was 
without vanity or self-conceit. It was about this time that, 
during a dinner-party at the house of the late Jonathan Harris, 
the conversation turned upon Allston, and Mrs. Harris produced 
a miniature likeness of her eldest son, painted by Allston in the 
earlier part of his college life. It was not without difficulty and 

*E. T. Dana. 



84 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

with reiterated charges to be careful of it that I persuaded the 
good lady to intrust me with the miniature for the purpose of 
showing it to Allston. I carried it to his room and told him 
that a lad, in whom I felt a strong interest, was very earnest to 
become an artist, but his friends were averse to it, and that I 
had with me a specimen of his skill which I wanted to show 
him, and to obtain his opinion whether he thought the lad would 
ever rise to eminence in the art. After some hesitation he 
agreed to give me his opinion frankly, and I put the miniature 
into his hands. I shall never forget his start of surprise, and 
the queer expression of his countenance as he exclaimed, ' O 
God ! ' and then held the miniature in different lights, screwing 
his mouth about, and turning his head first upon one shoulder 
and then on the other, in a peculiar way he had when examining 
a picture. ' Well, Allston, what do you say to it ? ' ' Why, it is 
a queer-looking thing ! How old do you say he is ? ' ' About 
sixteen or seventeen.' ' What are his pecuniary circumstances ? ' 
c Sufficiently prosperous to insure him a good education and give 
him a handsome outset in life.' 

"He still kept looking at the miniature. ' Well, Allston, 
what is your opinion ? ' He still hesitated, but at last, by dint 
of urging, I drew from him that the young man had better follow 
the advice of his friends, for he did not think it possible that he 
could ever excel as an artist. I then asked him if he had no sus- 
picion who the young man was. ' No ; do I know him ? ' ' Why y 
as to that I can't say, for people are not very apt to know them- 
selves.' ' You surely don't mean to say that I ever painted that 
thing?' 'I do.' 'It is impossible.' 'It is not only possible, 
but certain. Don't you remember painting a miniature likeness 
of John Harris while at college ? ' 'I do,' said he. ' I do, and it 
begins to come back to me now ; but I could not have believed 
that I ever painted so indifferently. This will be a lesson to me 
as long as I live never to discourage anyone who thinks he has 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 85 

stuff in him. I know what I am and what I was then, but I can 
find nothing in that miniature that would lead me to suppose 
that the person who painted it could ever rise to mediocrity in 
the art.'" 

This brings to mind an incident relating to Stuart Newton 
during his art studies in Italy. He was drawing from the antique 
in the school of Bezzoli, at Florence, an artist of eminence under 
the patronage of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. After Newton had 
drawn a few weeks in the school, Bezzoli advised him to abandon 
his purpose of becoming an artist, as he had not the talent 
requisite to success. Newton withdrew, and in his own room 
painted a picture and invited Bezzoli to look at it. On examin- 
ing it Bezzoli expressed great surprise, and remarked that the 
color was good, that it reminded him of the Venetian school, and, 
said he, " What puzzles me most is that the drawing is so good." 
Newton replied : "I cannot see form apart from color." Stuart 
Newton's career in art was brief. He died at an early age, and 
left comparatively few pictures, but his work in the South Ken- 
sington Museum is quite sufficient to show how mistaken was the 
judgment of his Tuscan teacher. 

Jarvis's letter continues : " On my return from Europe, in 
1810, I found him in Devonshire Street, about a stone's throw 
from State Street. He here painted a landscape of American 
scenery and a sunrise, of which your brother said to me, two or 
three years ago, in speaking of Allston's love for his bed in the 
morning, that he had often said that Allston must be a genius, 
since he could paint what he had never seen. I told Ned that 
this picture afforded proof positive that Allston had never seen 
the sun rise, for if he had he would never have painted the reflec- 
tion of the sun in the water widening as it approached the fore- 
ground. In the summer of 1811 our friend left this country and 
established himself in London, where I had the pleasure of see- 
ing him in the autumn of that year. He was at housekeeping. 



SG WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

and I never saw him when he appeared so perfectly happy as 
then." 

In 1811 Mr. and Mrs. AUston, accompanied by S. F. B. Morse, 
sailed for England. Upon his graduation from Yale College he 
sought Allston's acquaintance, his taste for drawing and painting 
inclining him to adopt art as a profession. This inclination was 
strongly encouraged by Allston, and resulted in Morse's becom- 
ing his pupil, and not only his pupil, but his life-long friend 
and admirer. In one of his early letters to America he writes : 

" Mr. Allston is our most intimate friend and companion. I 
can't feel too grateful to him for his attentions to me ; he calls 
every day and superintends all that we are doing. When I am 
at a stand and perplexed in some parts of a picture, he puts me 
right, and encourages me to proceed by praising those parts 
which he thinks good ; but he is faithful, and always tells me 
when anything is bad. It is mortifying sometimes, when I have 
been painting all day very hard, and begin to be pleased with 
what I have done, and on showing it to Mr. Allston, with the 
expectation of praise, and not only of praise, but a score of 'ex- 
cellents,' 'well-dones,' and ' adroirables ' — I say it is mortifying to 
hear him, after a long silence, say, 'Very bad, sir; that is not 
flesh, it is mud, sir ; it is painted with brick-dust and clay.' I 
have felt sometimes ready to dash my palette-knife through it, 
and to feel at the moment quite angry with him ; but a little re- 
flection restores me. I see that Mr. Allston is not a flatterer but 
a friend, and that really to improve I must see my faults. What 
he says after this always puts me in good humor again. He tells 
me to put a few flesh tints here, a few gray ones there, and to 
clear up such and such a part by such and such colors ; and not 
only that, but takes the palette and brushes, and shows me how. 
In this way he assists me ; I think it is one of the greatest bless- 
ings that I am under his eyes. I don't know how many errors 
I might have fallen into if it had not been for his attentions." 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 87 

Six months after Morse and Allston arrived in England, 
Charles K. Leslie, a young American, full of enthusiasm for the 
study of art, arrived in London. There he made the acquaint- 
ance of Morse, and, with him, became Allston's pupil. Like 
Morse, Leslie became a student at the Royal Academy, under 
West. Of Allston Leslie says : 

" My first instructors in painting were Mr. West and Mr. All- 
ston. It was Allston who first awakened what little sensibility I 
may possess to the beauties of color. He first directed my atten- 
tion to the Venetian school, particularly to the works of Paul 
Veronese, and taught me to see, through the accumulated dirt of 
ages, the exquisite charm that lay beneath. Yet, for a long time, 
I took the merits of the Venetians on trust, and, if left to myself, 
should have preferred works which I now feel to be comparatively 
worthless. I remember when the picture of 'The Ages,' by 
Titian, was first pointed out to me by Allston as an exquisite 
work, I thought he was laughing at me." 

In answer to the statement that Morse was a pupil of Mr. 
West, we cite the following extract from a letter written in 1813 : 

" I cannot close this letter without telling you how much I 
am indebted to that excellent man, Mr. Allston. He is extremely 
partial to me, and has often told me that he is proud of calling 
me his pupil ; he visits me every evening, and our conversation 
is generally upon the inexhaustible subject of our divine art, and 
upon home, which is next in our thoughts. I know not in what 
words to speak of Mr. Allston. I can truly say I do not know 
the slightest imperfection in him ; he is amiable, affectionate, 
learned; the possessor of the greatest powers of mind and 
genius ; modest, unassuming, and, above all, a religious man. 
You may, perhaps, suppose that my partiality for him blinds me 
to his faults ; but no man could conceal, on so long an acquaint- 
ance, every little foible from one so constantly in his company ; 
and during the whole of my acquaintance with Mr. Allston I 



88 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

never heard him speak a peevish word, or utter a single incon- 
siderate sentence. He is a man of whom I cannot speak suf- 
ficiently, and my love for him can only compare with that love 
which ought to subsist between brothers. He is a man for 
whose genius I have the highest veneration ; for whose princi- 
ples I have the greatest respect ; and for whose amiable proper- 
ties I have an increasing love. . . . You must recollect, 
when you tell friends that I am studying in England, that I am 
a pupil of Mr. Allston and not Mr. West ; they will not long ask 
you who Mr. Allston is ; he will very soon astonish the world. 
It is said by the greatest connoisseurs in England, who have 
seen some of Mr. Allston's works, that he is destined to revive 
the art of painting in all its splendor, and that no age ever 
boasted of so great a genius. It might be deemed invidious 
were I to make public another opinion of the first men in this 
country ; it is, that Mr. Allston will almost as far surpass Mr. 
"West as Mr. West has other artists, and this is saying a great 
deal, considering the very high standing which Mr. West enjoys 
at present." 

Morse's opinion, given in the above letter, was shared by 
his fellow-pupil, Leslie, who became a member of the Royal 
Academy, and rose to high rank among English artists of his 
day. 

Mr. Morse was the founder of the National Academy of De- 
sign, and its president for a number of years. In 1866 he pur- 
chased Leslie's portrait of Allston, and presented it to the Acad- 
emy with these words: "There are associations in my mind with 
those two eminent and beloved names which appeal too strongly 
to me to be resisted. . . . Allston was, more than any other 
person, my master in art. Leslie was my life-long friend and 
fellow-pupil, whom I loved like a brother. We all lived to- 
gether for years in the closest intimacy and in the same house." 



CHAPTEK VIII. 

PAINTING AND PUKCHASE OF "THE ANGEL RELEASING ST. PETEE 
FROM PRISON." — ALLSTON'S SKILL IN PERSPECTIYE. — APPRE- 
CIATIVE LETTERS FROM SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT AND THOMAS 
APPLETON. — CURIOUS FATE OF THE PICTURE. 

Allston returned to England under auspices full of encourage- 
ment. A new chapter in life had been happily begun. The 
foundation of a high reputation had been well laid ; thorough- 
ness had marked its progress. He had not begun to read be- 
fore he had learned the alphabet of his art. No royal road had 
enticed his untrained powers. Hand, eye, and brain, had worked 
symmetrically up to self-confidence and enviable public recogni- 
tion, when, in the buoyancy of youth, he made his home with his 
bride in London. He had not returned to strangers to cope 
with untried obstacles in that human wilderness, but to friends, 
admirers, and patrons. Thus, under most favorable circum- 
stances, he entered again upon his career in London, with every 
promise of success. 

One of the first to recognize his genius at this time was Sir 
George Beaumont. He was intimately acquainted with English 
art of the time of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and was a liberal patron 
of artists, down to the time of Haydon. He was himseK an 
amateur painter of marked ability. One of his pictures, that of 
" The Cynical Philosopher," was owned by the National Gallery. 
He was a man of high literary tastes ; Allston and he became 
very warm friends. 



90 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Allston had already formed a conception of his great picture, 
" The Dead Man Bevived," and had completed a careful study 
on a small canvas. This so impressed Sir George that, soon 
after seeing it, he wrote Allston the following letter : 

" Coleorton Hall, Ashby-de-la-Zouch, August 21, 1812. 
" My Dear Sir : Your picture gave me so much satisfaction 
and so fully answered all the expectations which had been raised 
in my mind respecting your power, that I cannot refrain from 
troubling you with a line or two of congratulation ; if you accom- 
plish the work with the same happiness with which it is con- 
ceived (and I have no doubt upon the subject), I think I may 
venture to promise you the approbation of all those whose judg- 
ments are deserving of your consideration. I could not well 
judge the effect of light and shadow in the state in which I saw 
it ; but I take it for granted you intend to make it very powerful, 
having Eembrandt more in your mind than S. del Piombo, with 
regard to that part of the arrangement. I think large portions 
of shadow, ' deep, yet clear,' blank almost at a sudden glance, 
yet broken with nameless tints and mysterious approaches to 
shape, have a wonderful effect upon the mind in subjects of 
this elevated description. In this particular Eembrandt is so 
happy that the little picture of ' The Crucifixion ' now before 
me, makes my very blood run cold, and I have frequently 
thought, in spite of his Dutch virgins and occasional vulgarities, 
there is as much of the true sublime in the light and shadow of 
Eembrandt as in the lines of Michael Angelo. At any rate, it 
would be well to endeavor to unite excellencies which if brought 
together would, according to my feelings, delight and astonish 
the world. With regard to color, I should wish you by all 
means to avoid a large portion of cold tint, but I am taking lib- 
erties which I hope you will excuse for the sake of my zeal, and 
I will now come to the business of my letter. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 91 

" I have a great desire to place a work of yours in this 
church ; there is a place which I think would afford a good light 
to a picture of small dimensions, a whole length, perhaps some- 
thing larger. I will now be very open with you. My expenses in 
building, etc., have been, and continue to be, so very heavy that I 
cannot afford more than two hundred pounds for this indulgence, 
and if that sum appears inadequate, I trust you will tell me so 
with the same friendly spirit which I take the liberty to use. 

" If this offer meets with your approbation, perhaps in the 
course of a month or two you may find time to leave your work 
for a little relaxation and look at the spot, the more time you 
can afford us the better. We shall be here till the end of Octo- 
ber. We may hope for a fine autumn. I have now taken up 
much of your time, and will only add Lady Beaumont's best 
wishes to those of, 

" Your faithful and devoted friend, 

"Geo. Beaumont." 

The result of Sir George Beaumont's offer of two hundred 
pounds for a picture to place in the church he was then building, 
was a work for which five hundred pounds, even at that time, 
would have been only a fair price. Sir George expected a com- 
paratively small picture, but many considerations led Allston to 
increase the size. Among these we may regard as foremost a 
desire to gratify his friend. The office of the picture, too, if 
we may so express it, was another important consideration. It 
was to minister to souls. It was to occupy a prominent place 
in the little parish church at Ashby-cle-la-Zouch. There, as from 
Sunday to Sunday, the gentry and the working people, with their 
children, assembled for worship, the angel would greet them and 
turn their thoughts heavenward. With such possibilities in view, 
Allston needed no other stimulus to enlist his highest powers, 
and secure his best work. 



92 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

The subject was happily chosen, " The Angel Releasing St. 
Peter" — divine interposition in behalf of the imprisoned — an 
angel symbolizing the power of truth to emancipate. Allston's 
religious sensibilities responded to such thoughts till his work 
seemed radiant with a divine influence. 

Martin, the famous painter of grand architectural composi- 
tions, was in Allston's studio when he was engaged on this pict- 
ure, and had just introduced the winding stairway, he asked 
Martin if he would make a drawing, putting the stairs in correct 
perspective. Martin assented, but was so dilatory that Allston, 
becoming impatient of the delay, went on and painted the stairs. 
When Martin brought his drawing, and found the stairs com- 
pleted, he carefully compared them with his mathematically 
accurate lines, and said, " They are so correct as really to need 
no alteration." 

The following letter from Sir George shows his appreciation 
of the picture : 

" My Deae Sir : I am just returned from the church, where 
your picture hangs in full view, and I must say it appears to 
such advantage that I hope sooner or later you will see it in this 
light. Some time or other you will perhaps be induced to visit 
Mr. "Wordsworth and your friends in the north, and then you 
will recollect this place is hardly out of your way. 

" Time has mellowed the colors, and the general tone is 
much improved. Did you not take the idea of the angel's wings 
from those of the dove ? It appears so to me, and I think them 
most appropriate. The bluish gray suits the picture admirably, 
and the downy softness of the inside of the wing is excellently 
described. As to the background of the picture, it is, I think, 
perfect, the gloom and depth set off the figures to the best ad- 
vantage. 

" To you who have been accustomed to the extended lakes of 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 93 

America, our comparatively small pools would appear trifling ; 
still, however, I think you would be much gratified with the 
sight of them, for the mountains are high enough to induce the 
clouds to repose upon their bosoms, and that is the criticism by 
which I judge what is the proper height of a mountain. Those 
upon the Wye, although well formed, are not high enough to 
produce the most sublime of all landscape effects — the union of 
the earth with the heavens. A foggy cloud, shapeless and for- 
lorn, will sometimes drizzle upon them ; but I like to see fair, 
floating summer clouds arrested in their course, unable to resist 
the strong attraction of the mountain. 

"I hope your head has not been affected by this last dreary 
weather, and equally unpleasant autumn winds ; but in spite of 
them we were often favored by many magnificent cloud effects, 
and as I had a pretty good view from my window, with pen and 
pencil I set the weather at defiance. 

" Lady Beaumont desires me to thank you for the great pleas- 
ure your picture has given her. 

" I am, dear sir, your most faithful servant, 

"G. Beaumont. 
" Have you seen Coleridge lately ? " 

Mr. Thomas G. Appleton, of Boston, while in England, after 
Allston's death, visited Sir George Beaumont, and saw this pict- 
ure, about which he thus wrote to Mr. Dana, Sr. : 

"I wish, while the impression is strong upon me, to give 
you some idea of Allston's fine picture, painted for Sir George 
Beaumont ; I have now seen it twice, and the last visit, particu- 
larly with a fine morning light, deepened and enlarged very much 
my first idea of its beauty. Lady Sitwell, at whose house I have 
been making a visit, two days since, drove me over to Coleorton 
Hall, where it is — she herself having become interested enough 
in Allston to wish to see it. We saw it there to disadvantage, 
as the evening shadows obscured it ; but yesterday I walked out 



94 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

to see it again, and found it worthy of Allston in his best days. 
For myself, I have not seen a picture in England (certainly not 
of our time) I should prefer to it, and I would gladly exchange 
1 all Sir George's other pictures against this one. The picture is 
inot far from the size of ' Jeremiah,' and the figures natural size, 
apparently. It is hung in a side aisle of a very sweet and grace- 
ful church, which stands like a guardian angel to the grounds 
near the house. Its frame is ungilt, and it is the only picture in 
the church, so that it rises superior. 

" If you were to see these lovely grounds, now classic through 
many an age of poets, from Fletcher's associate to Wordsworth 
and Allston, and the meek and simple church, half hid in stately 
elms, you would, I am sure, think your friend's picture appropri- 
ately placed. Yet I wish it were in America, for I really think 
we are more impressionable than the English by high religious 
works of art, and it would do more good there than here. The 
angel stands with feet upon two different steps of a flight of stairs 
which lead out of the prison, and through the open door of 
which the angel has come. The angel is perfectly beautiful, the 
most simply so of all Allston's faces I remember. He expresses 
perfect happiness, his face is almost expressionless, only a divine 
necessity of joy shines throughout him, 

" 'that grace 

So eloquent of unimpassioned love ! 

That, by a simple movement, thus imparts 
Its own harmonious peace, the while our hearts 

Rise, as by instinct, to the world above.' 

" His nut-brown hair falls in clusters round his head and 
agrees well with the sweet face. He is clothed all in white, 
pointing with expanded and radiant hand to the open door, while 
with the other he invites the astonished saint. The saint's face 
you know from the sketch in Boston. His whole figure is of 
that grand mould in which the ' Jeremiah ' is cast. A dark purple 




The Angel Liberating St. Peter from Prison. 

From the original study for the large picture now in the Hospital for the 
Insane. Worcester, Mass. 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 95 

drapery envelops him from below the waist; one hand grasps 
his chain, while he supports himself with the other, all of which 
is in deep shadow. On either side the two guards are sleeping 
profoundly. The architecture I admire more than any in all 
Allston's pictures. There is a circular flight of stairs winding 
away into the gloom, while the shadow is relieved from above by 
a huge disk of moonshine, coming through the grated window 
in the roof. From all of this you will get very little idea of this 
noble work, but you may think it better than nothing. I am 
glad to say the picture is perfectly well-preserved. It is high in 
a dry aisle, and bids fair to hold its color. 

" I have nothing more to communicate at present relating to 
Allston, as I have not had the good fortune to see any more of 
his pictures than the ' Peter.' If I should ever visit Bristol, I 
shall make it a point of looking up his pictures there, of which I 
have heard some little said since my visit to this country." 

The vicissitudes of fortune induced those having charge of 
this picture, after the death of Sir George Beaumont, to dispose 
of it to an American gentleman. It was brought to America, 
and presented as an altar-piece for the chapel of the Hospital for 
the Insane in Worcester, Mass. It is to be regretted that a work 
of such beauty and high artistic merit should be so secluded. 
It is due to the memory of its author that it should be placed 
where it can readily be seen. It is due to the cause of art culture 
in America that this, one of the greatest works of America's 
greatest painter, should be rescued from its present seclusion. 
As the angel released St. Peter, so let us hope that the pure 
spirit of love for art will release from its prison this beautiful 
picture, and place it where its gentle ministry may be more ex- 
tended ; its refining and elevating influence more generally felt 
and acknowledged. 



CHAPTEE IX. 

" THE DEAD MAN EEVIVED BY TOUCHING THE BONES OF THE PEOPHET 
ELISHA." — ALLSTON'S OWN DESCRIPTION OF THE PICTURE. — MAK- 
ING CLAY MODELS FOR THE WORK. — TAKES THE FIRST PRIZE 
OF TWO HUNDRED GUINEAS WHEN EXHIBITED AT THE BRITISH IN- 
STITUTION. — ALLSTON'S SICKNESS AND VISIT TO BRISTOL. 

While engaged on the " Dead Man Revived," Allston lost his 
health from a sufficient and obvious cause. Ambition prompting 
and reinforcing his enthusiasm, led him to a continuous violation 
of one of the most important laws of health. So engrossed was 
he by the great work in hand that he could not, or did not, find 
time to care for his bodily nutrition. This went on for three 
months, when the limit came, and violated law demanded its 
penalty. Alarming symptoms appeared, which his physician in 
London failing to remove, it was decided to take him to Clifton 
for change of scene and air. In speaking of this illness in after- 
years, Allston loved to tell of the kindness of his friends, and 
especially of Coleridge, w T ho nursed him with tender and affec- 
tionate solicitude. The penalty demanded for his imprudence 
was life-long, it was never quite paid till he fell asleep with the 
frosts of age upon him. When he was able to return to London 
his physician told him he would never again be entirely well. 
He said to a friend, some thirty years after this, that, although 
he had been tolerably well, he had never experienced an hour of 
buoyant health since that sickness. 

Leslie was so affected by Allston's illness that he laid aside 
his own work and gave his time and attention to him. With 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 97 

Morse, lie accompanied him on the trying journey, which he thus 
describes : 

" I think it was in the summer of 1813 that Allston was at- 
tacked with an extremely painful disorder, which, increasing in 
defiance of the physician to whom he applied, he determined to 
try change of air. Having often been invited by his uncle, Mr. 
Vanderhorst, who lived at Bristol, to visit that neighborhood, 
he and Mrs. Allston set out for Clifton by easy stages, accom- 
panied by Mr. Morse and myself. But Allston became so ex- 
tremely unwell on reaching Salt Hill, near "Windsor, that Mr. 
Morse returned to London to acquaint Coleridge, who, as you 
know, was affectionately attached to Allston, with the alarming 
state of his friend. Coleridge came the same afternoon to Salt 
Hill with Dr. Tuthill, and they both stayed at the inn with All- 
ston for the few days that he was confined there. As soon as the 
patient could proceed on his journey, Coleridge and the doctor re- 
turned to town, and we travelled on slowly, resting a day at Ox- 
ford (from whence he visited Blenheim), and another day at Bath. 
Poor Allston's sufferings were so frequent and so great that, 
though he looked with us at the beautiful things we saw, they 
scarcely afforded him a moment's enjoyment. So excruciating 
was the pain he felt at times that he compared it to what he sup- 
posed a man might feel if the region of his bowels were filled with 
boiling vinegar. I spent a fortnight with Mr. and Mrs. Allston 
at Clifton, and had then the pleasure of leaving the latter conva- 
lescent, under the care of a Mr. King, a very eminent surgeon, to 
whom Coleridge had procured him a letter of introduction from 
Southey. Allston was, however, subject to a good deal of an- 
noyance from Mr. Yanderhorst of a nature to be severely felt in 
the weak and nervous state to which his acute suffering had re- 
duced him. The old gentleman bore an inveterate hatred to 
the medical profession and to every class of its members, and 
it was necessary to keep it a profound secret from him that 



98 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Allston was in the hands of Mr. King. This was no easy mat- 
ter, as Mr. Yanderhorst, who was very kind to his nephew in 
his own way, visited him or sent to him every day. He fre- 
quently sent dishes from his own table, which was a very lux- 
urious one. He believed all that his nephew required was good 
air and nourishment, and the dishes he sent consisted of rich 
soups, game, puddings, etc., not one of which the patient, who 
was then restricted to a water-gruel, was permitted to touch. 
Allston's gradual amendment was soon apparent to his friends, 
and it was amusing to see Mr. Yanderhorst taking all the merit 
of the cure to himself, while the case was in reality a surgical 
one, and Mr. King was removing some internal obstruction, 
which caused the pain, by a series of operations, not, I believe, 
of a very painful nature. ' My nephew would have been dead 
by this time,' said Mr. Yanderhorst, ' if he had allowed one of 
those scoundrel doctors to come near him.' 

" Never did I witness greater devotion in a wife to a husband 
than Mrs. Allston's throughout his long and severe trial. He 
was truly blessed in having a bosom friend, ' An Israelite indeed 
without guile,' as Cole called her, and he has again, I am told, 
been so blessed. I remember to have often heard Mrs. Allston 
speak of her brother, Dr. Channing, before he was known to the 
world ; ' that little Saint William ' was her usual mode of intro- 
ducing any anecdote of him. "When Dr. Channing visited Eng- 
land I had the happiness of seeing him frequently, and one day, 
at his request, accompanied him to his sister's tomb." 

Allston's sojourn at Clifton, during his sickness, was beneficial 
in many ways ; as a vacation, taking him from his constant brain- 
work, it was important, probably necessary to his recovery. 
During his convalescence it gave the much-needed rest which 
comes from change of occupation. His mind was active, it could 
not be idle, but it worked on other themes, and with the pen. 
Different channels of thought, and a different medium for its ex- 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 99 

pression, gave relaxation, helpful and restorative. It prepared 
his mind for a new grasp of the subject which had so exhausted 
his vitality and threatened his life. This subject, t( The Dead 
Man Eevived," touched his genius on all sides, and taxed his 
powers to the utmost. It charged his ambition with hope, and 
rewarded it with encouraging progress at every stage. The 
design was startlingly dramatic and impressive. Its effect was 
grand to a degree that placed it beyond the ordinary range of 
artistic endeavor. For a description in detail, we quote Allston's 
own words : 

"The sepulchre of Elisha is supposed to be in a cavern 
among the mountains, such places, in those early ages, being 
used for the interment of the dead. In the foreground is the 
man at the moment of reanimation, in which the artist has 
attempted, both in the action and color, to express the gradual 
recoiling of life upon death. Behind him, in a dark recess, are 
the bones of the prophet, the skull of which is peculiarized by a 
preternatural light. At his head and feet are two slaves, bearers 
of the body, the ropes still in their hands, by which they have 
let it down, indicating the act that moment performed ; the emo- 
tion attempted in the figure at the feet is that of astonishment and 
fear, modified by doubt, as if still requiring further confirmation 
of the miracle before him ; while in the figure at the head, is that 
of unqualified, immovable terror. In the most prominent group 
above is a soldier in the act of rushing from the scene. The 
violent and terrified action of this figure was chosen to illustrate 
the miracle by the contrast which it exhibits to that habitual 
firmness supposed to belong to the military character, showing 
his emotion to proceed from no mortal cause. The figure grasp- 
ing the soldier's arm, and pressing forward to look at the body, 
is expressive of terror overcome by curiosity. The group on the 
left, or rather behind the soldier, is composed of two men of two 
different ages, earnestly listening to the explanation of a priest, 



100 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

who is directing their thoughts to heaven as the source of the 
miraculous change ; the boy clinging to the young man is too 
young to comprehend the nature of the miracle, but, like children 
of his age, unconsciously partakes of the general impulse. The 
group on the right forms an episode consisting of the wife and 
daughter of the reviving man. The wife, unable to withstand 
the conflicting emotions of the past and the present, has fainted ; 
and whatever joy and astonishment may have been excited in the 
daughter by the sudden revival of her father is wholly absorbed 
in distress and solicitude for her mother. The young man, with 
outstretched arms, actuated by impulse (not motive), announces 
to the wife by a sudden exclamation the revival of her husband ; 
the other youth, of a mild and devotional character, is still in 
the attitude of one conversing — the conversation being abrupt- 
ly broken off by his impetuous companion. The sentinels in 
the distance, at the entrance of the cavern, mark the depth of 
the picture and indicate the alarm which had occasioned this tu- 
multary burial." 

About this picture Leslie writes : " In the preparatory studies 
he took great pains, for he not only painted a small one of the 
subject, but he modelled in clay (of small size) the principal 
figure, over which he cast wetted drapery ; and he also modelled 
the head very finely, of the size of life. (The cast of the head of 
the Dead Man was in his studio in Cambridgeport.) These 
models proved that he might have excelled in sculpture as well 
as in painting. 

"Encouraged by the success "West had met in exhibiting 
large pictures from sacred history, Allston contemplated an exhi- 
bition of this picture, and when near its completion he hired a 
room for that purpose, in Pall Mall. Morse and I were one day 
with him when he was putting the finishing touches to his work 
in that room ; Allston was called out for a few minutes by a 
stranger (for he would admit no one but intimate friends), and 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 101 

when he returned he told us that a little, goggle-eyed -man, in a 
shabby black dress, had offered his services to write a paragraph 
in praise of his picture for the newspapers, having seen its ap- 
proaching exhibition advertised in them, and had brought the 
commencement of one, which he read to Allston as a specimen. 
It ran as follows : ' The venerable President of the Koyal 
Academy has set an excellent example to our artists by selecting 
the subject for his pencil from the inspired writers, which ex- 
ample we are happy to see followed by his countryman, Mr. 
Allston. " The Dead Man Revived by Touching the Bones of 
the Prophet Elisha," what a subject for descriptive painting.' 
1 But,' said Allston, ' this, sir, would look like a puff.' ' No, sir,' 
replied the author, ' as it is not written by yourself it cannot be 
called the Puff Direct, though I own it may be considered some- 
what in the light of the Puff Oblique.' 

" Allston declined the assistance of the little gentleman, say- 
ing he would rather let the picture take its chance with the news- 
papers, upon which the other entered into a long narrative of 
his distresses. Allston said : ' Really, sir, I am so poor myself 
that such a trifle only as I can afford to give, I should be ashamed 
to offer to a gentleman.' On being assured, however, that the 
smallest pittance would be thankfully received, Allston put a 
half-crown into his hand, which was accepted with great gratitude. 
I think it was by the advice of Sir George Beaumont that All- 
ston gave up his intention of exhibiting the picture himself, and 
sent it to the British Institution." 

Leslie, in a letter to his sister, tells of West visiting the stu- 
dio. " I believe I mentioned to you before that Allston was about 
a large picture, ' The Dead Man Revived.' Mr. West called on 
him the other day to see it, and was quite astonished, 'Why, sir,' 
he exclaimed, ' this reminds me of the Fifteenth Century ; you 
have been studying in the highest schools of art.' He added : 
* There are eyes in this country that will be able to see so much 



102 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

excellence ; ' and then turning around he saw a head Allston had 
modelled in clay from one of the figures, and asked what it was, 
taking it to be an antique. Allston told him it was one of his, 
at which, after examining it carefully, he said, there was not a 
sculptor in England could do anything like it. He did not find 
fault with any part of the picture, but he merely suggested the 
introduction of another figure. 

" I was never more delighted in my life than when I heard 
this praise coming from Mr. West, and so perfectly agreeing 
with my own opinion of Allston. He has been in high spirits 
ever since, and his picture has advanced amazingly rapid for 
these two or three days. He intends sending it to the Exhibi- 
tion of the British Gallery, where it will no doubt obtain the 
prize." 

" The Dead Man Kevived " was first exhibited at the British 
Institution, commonly called the British Gallery, and it there 
obtained the first prize of two hundred guineas. This was the 
first important work Allston had ever exhibited. It made a great 
sensation in art circles in London. It was generally acknowl- 
edged to be a work that should rank prominently in the domain 
of the highest art. Mr. West, expressing his admiration of it, 
said of Allston, "He has commenced where most of us leave off." 
When such men as West, Sir Thomas Lawrence, and Sir William 
Beechy regarded it with admiration, no one could be found to 
question his right to the general applause which was heard on 
,all sides. 

The attention this picture received was extremely encourag- 
ing. The praises it called forth were extravagant upon any 
theory that did not place it upon a par with the works of the 
old masters. The prize of two hundred guineas it received stim- 
ulated Allston's ambition and inspired him with great purposes. 
It was a voucher for his ability and an encouragement to still 
greater effort. 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 103 

The following congratulatory letter from Sir George Beau- 
mont was written just after the exhibition of his picture : 

"Dunnow, January 16, 1814. 

" My Dear Sib : I am truly sorry to hear your health has 
been in such a bad state. I hope, however, you will feel the 
benefit of the air you have inhaled at Clifton more in London 
than whilst you were upon the spot. This I know is not infre- 
quently the case. I assure you I have been very anxious on your 
account, and have been prevented from writing only by having 
by some accident mislaid your letter and not being able to recol- 
lect the address. I am sincerely sorry for your sufferings and 
heartily wish it were in my power to relieve them. I am very 
glad to hear you have completed your picture, which I have no 
doubt will do you great credit. I should have been happy to 
have been in town at the time the arrangement of the British 
Gallery took place, but I am at present attending Lady Beau- 
mont, my mother, in an illness which has every appearance 
of ending fatally, altho' she is now somewhat better ; this I hope 
will excuse me for writing in haste. In such an anxious state it 
is difficult to confine one's thoughts to other subjects. I will 
therefore only add at present, that I like the subject you mention 
extremely ; it is simple, well known, and capable of a pungent 
effect, which I would wish you to push to the utmost bounds of 
propriety. 

" I remain, my dear sir, with every good wish, most faithfully 
yours, 

"George Beaumont. 

" I shall be happy to hear of the progress of your health, and 
when you can with prudence attend to a sketch, I should be glad 
to have it sent here, for my stay at this place may probably be 
long." 



CHAPTEE X. 

the portkait of coleridge.— allston's own opinion of it. — 
Wordsworth's judgment. — what the London "guardian" 
said. — allston's appreciation of Coleridge's genius. 

Allston says : "Asl returned to London chiefly to finish this 
picture ('The Dead Man Revived'), that done, I went back to 
Bristol, where I painted and left a number of pictures ; among 
these were half-length portraits of my friend Mr. Coleridge, and 
my medical friend, Mr. King, of Clifton. I have painted but 
few portraits, and these I think are my best. So far as I can 
judge of my own production the likeness of Coleridge is a true 
one, but it is Coleridge in repose ; and, though not unstirred by 
the perpetual ground-swell of his ever-working intellect, and 
shadowing forth something of the deep philosopher, it is not 
Coleridge in his highest mood, the poetic state, when the divine 
afflatus of the poet possessed him. When in that state, no face 
that I ever saw was like his ; it seemed almost spirit made visible 
without a shadow of the physical upon it. Could I then have 
fixed it upon canvas ! but it was beyond the reach of my art. 
He was the greatest man I have ever known, and one of the 
best; as his nephew, Henry Nelson, truly said, 'a thousand 
times more sinned against than sinning ! ' " 

There has been a conflict of statements relating to this por- 
trait. By some it is said to have been painted in Rome ; others, 
with equal positiveness, assert that it was done in Bristol, after 
his serious illness there. Both statements are true, but not of 
the portrait in question. The conflict arises from a confusion 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 105 

of facts. There are two portraits of Coleridge by Allston. The 
one of earliest date was never finished. It was commenced in 
Rome, and well advanced, though far from finished, when it 
was arrested in its progress by Coleridge's sudden departure to 
England. This portrait is now in Boston, in the possession of 
Allston's niece, Miss R. Charlotte Dana. It is extremely inter- 
esting and does not disappoint the admirers of Coleridge. The 
Bristol portrait was painted for a friend and ardent admirer, 
Mr. Wade. He valued it so highly that he wished it kept in his 
family, and although he assented to the opinion of Wordsworth 
that it should be placed in some public gallery, he nevertheless 
gave it, by his will, to a relative, with the injunction that he 
should not part with it. 

During the latter part of Allston's life Wordsworth wrote a 
long letter to Professor Henry Reed, of Philadelphia, about the 
final disposition of the portrait, which he thought, in accordance 
with the verbal assent given by Mr. Wade, should be placed in 
one of the public galleries of England. Professor Reed forwarded 
this letter to Allston for his opinion and approval, and Allston 
replied, in one of the very last letters he ever wrote, concurring 
in Wordsworth's ideas, and expressing his wishes in regard to an 
engraver, as the subject of engraving this portrait had been much 
discussed. It was not till ten years after Allston's death that 
Mr. Derwent Coleridge, son of the poet, succeeded in obtaining 
permission to place it in the engraver's hands. 

We quote from the London Guardian of November 29, 1854 : 
"Mr. Moxon has published a portrait of S. T. Coleridge, 
which will be received with great pleasure by the admirers of 
that celebrated man. It is engraved by Mr. Samuel Cousins, 
from a picture by the American painter, Mr. Washington All- 
ston, himself a man of great ability, quite capable of appreciating 
his sitter, and very intimate with him. It is by far the finest 
portrait of Coleridge in existence, and so much more recalls the 



106 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

power and intellect of his face than any other we ever saw. It 
was painted when he was forty-two years old, but it retains a 
great deal of the appearance he presented when we remember 
him in much later life. We can quite believe what is said of the 
picture by those who recollect Coleridge when it was painted, 
that it was at that time an excellent likeness. He is sitting in a 
room which has something of an antique cast about it, with his 
hand upon a book, looking upward ; the portliness and white 
hair of middle life have come upon him, but the expression of 
his face is very refined and beautiful, and the form of his head 
grand and noble, and exceedingly like the well-known cast of it 
by Spurzheim. The engraving is a choice specimen of Mr. 
Cousin's mixed style of engraving, in which almost every effect 
of color is given by light and shade. 

It was no doubt due chiefly to Wordsworth's influence that 
the original painting was placed in the British National Portrait 
Gallery where it now hangs. The friendship that existed be- 
tween Coleridge and Allston at the time this portrait was painted 
was so sincere and intimate that it was frequently remarked upon 
by their friends, one of whom, Mr. Joseph Henry Green, writes, 
in a letter to Richard H. Dana, Sr. : 

" Coleridge never failed, when Allston's name was mentioned, 
to express his high admiration of his genius, both as a poet and 
a painter, and always spoke most warmly of his character as a 
man ; indeed the name of Allston may be adduced as proof and 
instance of Coleridge's often-repeated assertion that true genius 
ever has its taproot in the moral being, and I hold it scarcely 
possible that Coleridge could have felt the affection, which he 
undoubtedly did, toward Allston, without having had the strong- 
est assurance of those excellent qualities of the heart, which, 
whatever sympathy their common tastes and pursuits might 
have produced, were the real ground of his attachment and un- 
deviating friendship. 



■ 



Portrait of S. T. Coleridge. 

rom the original in the National Portrait Gallery, London. 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 107 

" It is unnecessary to say that Allston cherished similar and 
responsive feelings toward Coleridge ; and how well he had read 
the character of his admired friend may be best inferred from his 
masterly portrait of Coleridge; so only could one who knew, 
and therefore esteemed, the man have portrayed him — with the 
delicate feeling of his feminine gentleness combined with mascu- 
line thought, with the perception of the depth and inwardness of 
his imaginative meditation — it is not too much to say that it em- 
bodies, as far as can be presented to the sense, the character of 
the poet as ' the philosopher with the seraph's wing.' " 

Allston's intimacy with Coleridge was so close as to touch 
his entire nature, acquainting him with the inner depths of 
his character. Their mental endowments were kindred. The 
artist understood his subject as did no other artist of his time. 
Hence, though frequently painted by others, Wordsworth said of 
Allston's portrait, "It is the only likeness that ever gave me any 
pleasure ; it is incomparably the finest of the likenesses taken of 
Coleridge." Nothing can add to such testimony from one who 
was Coleridge's most intimate friend, and it is a satisfaction to 
know that this portrait is now to be seen in a permanent exhibi- 
tion of the portraits of distinguished Englishmen. There the 
American can point with pride to a work by one of his own 
countrymen unsurpassed by modern art in the higher qualities 
of portraiture. 

There are but few subjects for portraits that are utterly void 
of interest to the eye of an artist. But there are fewer still suf- 
ficiently beautiful or picturesque to make, without an effort of 
imagination in arrangement and treatment, a pleasing and beauti- 
ful picture. Therefore the majority of subjects must be rendered 
by a powerful imagination and consummate skill, to produce a 
pleasing effect, without loss of likeness. There are charming 
portraits — portraits which never lose their interest for us, por- 
traits of which we never tire — portraits which, like the varying 



108 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

aspects of nature, always repay contemplation with a new pleas- 
ure, yet these are in many instances portraits whose originals 
would be passed by as unattractive and void of special inter- 
est. But this cannot be said of the portrait of Coleridge by 
Allston. In that instance the subject was as inspiring as the 
portrait is satisfactory and pleasing. " The ground-swell of his 
ever-working intellect " is felt in the far-off look of his full gray 
eye, and a sense of thought-movement in every line of his noble 
face. As a whole it is pre-eminently a portrait of which one 
never tires. Intellect is the vitalizing power of beauty, and with- 
out it forms, though faultless, are not, in the highest sense, beau- 
tiful. Allston, it may be said, painted the intellect of Coleridge. 
The portrait of Dr. King, Allston mentions as having been 
painted at the same time with that of Coleridge ; he classes 
them together in point of merit, giving no special preference to 
either, yet one is comparatively unknown, while the other is con- 
spicuously historic and prominent among the most famous por- 
traits of England's gifted men. 



CHAPTEE XI. 

MRS. ALLSTON'S DEATH. — HER FUNERAL. — THE CAVERN SCENE FROM 
"GEL BLAS." — ALLSTON'S CHARITY. — LETTER FROM HLS CLASS- 
MATE, jaryis. — colereoge's letter of condolence. — his 

VIEWS ON THE WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND AND THE UNITED STATES. 

After their sojourn in Bristol, Allston and his wife returned 
to London, renewed in health, full of hope, and confident of suc- 
cess. They rented a house and began their first experience in 
housekeeping. This important stage in the progress of life, to 
one of Allston's sensibilities, must have brought happiness 
peculiar in degree. The basis of his pleasure was broad and all- 
satisfying. The adjustments of character welding the young 
couple in bonds of sentiment were perfected. Allston's was an 
ideal marriage. The benediction of contentment was in his 
household, because love in its fulness was there ; love lightening 
all burdens, heightening all pleasures. If, in the great world 
without, trials and disappointment weighed upon his spirit, he 
could take them to the sanctuary of his home with confidence of 
relief in sympathy and encouragement. Many things conspired 
to make auspicious his present outlook. Patronage assured, 
fame rapidly increasing — the future was tinted with a thousand 
hues to gratify, to cheer, and stimulate. But alas for the 
mutability of human conditions ! Hardly had the young hus- 
band and wife taken possession of their new home when death 
entered. Within a week the gentle, lowing, and loved wife sick- 
ened and died. The shock was bewildering, almost stupefying ; 
but when gradually the greatness of his bereavement appeared, 



110 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

it seemed immeasurable and overwhelming. From the greatness 
of the cause some have assumed what might be regarded as its 
natural effect, and have reported that Allston was rendered in- 
sane by the death of his wife. The report, however, was untrue, 
as an extract from a letter by Leslie, which we here quote, affirms : 

" A biographical sketch of Allston, by Mrs. Jameson, has ap- 
peared in the Atlienceum, in which she repeats (on the au- 
thority of Dunlap) that ' a temporary derangement of the intel- 
lect ' was caused by the death of his wife. This is not true, as 
Mr. Morse can assure you. He and I were with Allston con- 
stantly at that time, and sudden as was the blow, and deeply as 
he felt it, there was nothing in his manner that for a moment 
showed him to have lost the mastery of his mind." 

The funeral of Mrs. Allston was deeply impressive in its sim- 
plicity. Morse, Leslie, John Howard Payne, and Allston were 
the only persons present, and were the only persons who followed 
the coffin to the grave. As in thought we picture that scantily 
attended burial, we are impressed with a feeling of great solem- 
nity. They were Americans, associated by patriotism and kin- 
dred tastes ; Morse and Leslie, pupils of the chief mourner ; John 
Howard Payne, author of that lyric which has thrilled *so many 
hearts with the echo of a universal sentiment for the sweet 
ministries of home, they were mourners all, touched with pro- 
foundest sympathy and solicitude for their friend, the heart- 
broken husband, as he stood by the grave and gazed upon the 
coffin and heard the hollow sound marking the solemn words, 
" Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Allston's friends 
felt that it was not good for him to be alone in his grief -stricken 
house. Morse and Leslie persuaded him to leave it and take up 
his lodgings with them. Their proposal was the dictate of a wise 
and true friendship. Gradually old associations and pleasant 
companionship dispelled paralyzing grief, and led him from his 
overshadowing sorrow into comparative cheerfulness. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 111 

Allston's love for art was his great solace. As an angel of con- 
solation it ministered unto him by alluring visions ; it led him 
away from himself ; it allowed him but little time or thought for 
musing upon his bereavement and estimating its greatness. He 
yielded to its blessed influence and was comforted. He realized 
how great a boon in affliction is agreeable and absorbing occupa- 
tion. The first picture painted by him after the loss of his wife 
was the " Cavern Scene from Gil Bias." Many years after, when 
the exhibition of his pictures took place at Boston, his nephew, 
George Flagg, expressed admiration for this picture, as the one 
he preferred to any other in the collection, to which AUston re- 
marked that it was painted while he was in deep affliction, and 
constantly in tears. His nephew said, " I do not understand how 
it is possible to paint under such circumstances." " Ah, George," 
he said, " nothing can prevent my painting but want of money ; 
that paralyzes me." 

We cannot restrain regret that there was mingled so little of 
worldly wisdom in Allston's character. His generosity made him 
improvident to a degree that entailed pecuniary embarrassment 
in his later years. In a letter to Mr. Dana, Leslie writes : 

" I do not remember any circumstance during Allston's resi- 
dence in England that would lead me to think he was ever in 
distress for money, though it was evident he felt it necessary to 
live with the strictest economy. But there was one branch of 
economy he could not practise, and that was economy in charities. 
The streets of London were then more filled than they are now 
with objects of real and fictitious suffering, and he could not re- 
sist giving to every beggar he met far more largely than any man 
I ever knew, whose means were so limited. It was vain to tell 
him how often he was imposed upon by appearances. His answer 
was, ' It is better I should be imposed on than to miss doing 
what I can for one real sufferer.' One winter day he brought a 
wretched-looking woman home with him ; she was barefooted, 



112 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

and had nothing on but a ragged shift and petticoat. Allston 
clothed her warmly from the wardrobe of his wife, saying he was 
sure, could she look upon what he was doing from her abode in 
Heaven, she would smile on him. The next day I saw this 
woman in the street as ill-clad as when she excited his pity. 
Allston became well known to the beggars, and was persecuted 
by letters and other applications from impostors to a degree that 
made him miserable ; and indeed his plagues of this kind so in- 
creased that I really think they had something to do in hasten- 
ing his departure to America." 

Allston's classmate, Jarvis, in a letter, part of which forms one 
of our early chapters, thus writes in reference to his bereave- 
ment : 

" "When I saw him again he was a widower, and I have never 
witnessed more simple, touching, and heartfelt sorrow. It was 
in his countenance, in every motion, and in every tone of his 
voice. "Without any of the outpourings of grief, he appeared to 
be heart-broken. It was the mourning of Allston which could 
not be understood or appreciated by the herd, any more than 
they can understand or appreciate what gives the greatest value 
to his pictures. He repeated to me at this time some beautiful 
lines, which evidently had originated in the melancholy scenes 
through which he had passed. This recollection, combined with 
the sadness of the lines and the touching manner of his recita- 
tion, almost affected me to tears. He never made to me any 
more direct or any other allusion to the loss which he had sus- 
tained, nor was it necessary ; we saw and felt that each under- 
stood the feelings of the other. 

" An abiding effect of this loss upon our friend was to turn 
his thoughts, affections, and desires toward another world, in a 
greater degree than before. This is the true, and certainly the 
more rational and natural, explanation of his increased piety. I 
say increased, because a mind like his could never have been 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 113 

without feelings of reliance upon, and gratitude toward, his 
Creator, and because I never had, from my earliest acquaintance 
with him, the least reason to doubt his correctness in this par- 
ticular. 

" I am induced to make these observations from having had 
my attention called to an anecdote by some scribbler of the 
Atlas, in which Allston is represented as having been irrelig- 
ious at one period of his life, and as a man who would enjoy a 
joke at the expense of religious subjects, and who was brought 
into a religious life by an almost miraculous interposition, which 
saved him from starving. 

" I recollect seeing in some autobiographical sketch of the life 
of an English fanatic of the beginning of this century, that he 
found a new pair of breeches by his bedside when his old ones 
were in a woful plight, and regarded it as a direct interference 
of Providence. This might answer very well for an inspired or 
rather a crack-brained cobbler, but would not agree either with 
the composition of the head or heart of our friend. He had too 
much humility and too much good sense to convert an ordinary 
transaction of life into a special interposition of Providence in 
his behalf, even if it were true that he had ever been in such 
circumstances of pecuniary destitution, which I may be per- 
mitted to doubt. 

" Allston never sat in the seat of the scorner, and had always 
too much good feeling and too much good taste ever to have 
joined in an atheistic laugh. I would not have you suppose 
that he was what might be called a serious young man, for I 
have no reason to think that the subject of religion had occupied 
much of his thoughts ; but I am entitled to deny, from a most 
intimate acquaintance with him, that he was himself a scoffer or 
an encourager of scoffing in others. The peculiar cast of his re- 
ligious sentiment, I have no doubt, might be traced to his inti- 
macy with Coleridge; but this is mere conjecture, for, as our 
8 



114 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

views of religion were not the same, we avoided that, as we did 
all other topics of conversation on which we knew we could not 
agree." 

When news of Mrs. Allston's death was received by his 
friends out of London, letters of condolence attesting deep con- 
cern and friendship were written by them. Among these we 
cite one from Coleridge. It should be remembered that this 
letter was written at a time when views so large and generous 
toward America were seldom entertained by Englishmen. It 
was at a time when a sense of mortification at our naval vic- 
tories was rankling in the English mind. Extreme bitterness 
toward America was the rule, when the heart and intellect of 
Coleridge, which dictated this letter, were the exception : 

"October 25, 1815. 

" My Deae Allston : I could have wished to have learned 
more particulars from you respecting yourself. I have perhaps 
felt too great an awe for the sacredness of grief, but those of our 
household know with how deep and recurrent a sympathy I have 
followed you, and I know what consolation it has been to me that 
you have in every sense the consolation and the undoubting 
hopes of a Christian. Blessed indeed is that gift from above, the 
characteristic operation of which is to transmute the profoundest 
sources of our sorrow into the most inexhaustible sources of our 
comfort. The very virtues that enforce the tear of earthly regret 
rill that tear with a light not earthly. There is a capaciousness 
in every living heart which retains an aching vacuum, what and 
howsoever numerous its present freight of earthly blessings may 
be ; and as God only can fill it, so must it needs be a sweet and 
gracious incarnation of the heavenly ; that what we deeply loved, 
but with fear and trembling, we must now love with a love of 
faith that excludeth fear. Love is in God, and God in it. 

" From such thoughts none but an abrupt transition is possi- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 115 

ble. I pass, therefore, at once, by an effort, to the sphere in 
which you are appointed, because highly gifted, to act ; and in 
this I can but pour forth two earnest wishes. First, that equal 
to the best in composition, and I most firmly believe superior in 
the charm of coloring, you would commend your genius to the 
universally intelligible of your 7rayy\coaarj<; Tkyyi)<; — Expression. 
Second, that you never for any length of time absent yourself 
from nature and the communion with nature, for to you alone of 
all contemporary artists does it seem to have been given to know 
what nature is — not the dead shapes, the outward letter, but the 
life of nature revealing itself in the phenomenon, or rather at- 
tempting to reveal itself. Now the power of producing the true 
ideals is no other, in my belief, than to learn the will from the 
deed, and then to take the will for the deed. The great artist 
does what nature would do, if only the disturbing forces were 
abstracted. 

" With regard to my MSS. I had no other wish, and formed 
no higher expectation than this : that a copyright, as exclusive as 
the American law permits, should be vested in some one book- 
seller who should have the copy in time enough to get it printed 
in America two months before the work could arrive from Eng- 
land ; that is to say, have it published in Boston or Philadelphia 
at the same time of its first publication in England, and that the 
bookseller, in return for the copy and copyright, should secure 
to me some portion, say one-third, of his net profits. If this can 
be done, I shall think it worth while to continue the transcrip- 
tion, though the ultimate profits should be but from <£20 to £0 
Os. Od. One volume of 900 pages octavo contains the history of 
my life and opinions ; the second my poems, composed since 
1795, i.e., those not in my volume of ' Poems ' already printed. 

"In the ' Ode on the Death of General Boss,' if I ever finish 
it, I shall utter a voice of lamentation on the moral war between 
the child and the parent country, a war laden with curses for un- 



116 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

born generations in both countries. You may well believe, 
therefore, that I shall not make myself an accomplice directly or 
indirectly, by flattery or by abuse, in what I regard as a crime of 
no ordinary guilt, the feeding or palliating the vindictive antipa- 
thy of the one party, or the senseless, groundless, wicked con- 
tempt and insolence of the other. Even now it would not be too 
late, if the spirit of philosophy could be called down on minis- 
ters and governments. The true policy is palpable and simple. 
A child, wearied out by undue exercise of parental authority, 
elopes, marries with an independent fortune, and sets up for 
himself. The matter is irrevocable ; a reconciliation takes place, 
and the parent himself is convinced that he had acted tyran- 
nically and under false notions of the extent of his authority, and 
that in the same proportion his child had acted justifiably. 
What, then, would a good parent do ? Evidently treat the child 
with the kindness of a parent, but with additional respect and 
etiquette, as now a householder and himself the master of a 
family ; and this he will show in the character of his messengers, 
in the style of his letters, etc. But if, in addition to the duties 
of family love, their two trades or estates played into each other's 
hands, so that they could not really prosper without increasing 
their dealings with each other (suppose the father a shoemaker 
finisher and the son a tanner-currier), then common self-love 
would dictate the abandonment of every act and impulse of 
jealousy. Were I Dictator, I would not only send to America 
men of the highest rank and talent, with more than usual splen- 
dor, as ambassadors, ministers, etc., but would throw open not 
only the West Indies, but the whole colonial trade to the Ameri- 
cans, confident that every new city that would thence arise in the 
United States would add a new street to some town in Great 
Britain. Alas! that the dictates of wisdom should be but 
dreams of benevolence, to be interpreted by contraries. The 
malignant witchcraft of evil passions reads good men's prayers 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 117 

backward, and I cannot help dreading that the hot heads of both 
countries will go on to make folly beget folly, both the more 
wrong in proportion as each is right. How little, then, ought 
we to value wealth and power, seeing that every nation carries 
its only formidable enemy in its bosom ; and the vices that make 
its enemies elsewhere are but the systole to its diastole. 

" I have received a most flattering letter from Lord Byron. 
Should my tragedy be accepted (of which I have little doubt), I 
shall, God willing, see you about Christmas. Meantime may 
God bless you and let me hear from you soon. 

"S. T. Colekidge. 

" P. S. — Friday last (20th) my forty -fourth birthday ; and in 
all but the brain I am an old man ! Such ravages do anxiety 
and mismanagement make." 



CHAPTER XH. 

TO THE PENNSYLVANIA ACAD- 
EMY OF FINE ARTS. — ALLSTON'S AFFECTION FOR ENGLAND. — LET- 
TER EXPLAINING ALLSTON'S REASON FOR DECLINING TO PAINT 
A PICTURE FROM HIS SKETCH OF "CHRIST HEALING." — "THE 
CAYERN SCENE" PURCHASED IMMEDIATELY. 

When news of the success of Allston's picture, " The Dead 
Man Revived," reached Philadelphia, his friends in that city de- 
sired to secure it for the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. 
Messrs. Sully and McMurtrie succeeded in raising $3,500 (a 
large sum for a picture in those days) with which they pur- 
chased it. This evidence of his fame at home added a gratifi- 
cation to the pleasure he had already received from public 
acknowledgment. The kindness and generous appreciation he 
had met in England endeared to him the mother country. He 
loved to acknowledge the ties of blood existing, despite political 
severance and national independence. 

" Next to my own," he writes, " I love England, the land of 
my adoption. I should, indeed, be ungrateful did I not love 
a country from which I never received other than kindness ; 
in which, even during the late war, I was never made to feel that 
I was a foreigner." 

The purchase of his picture by the Pennsylvania Acad- 
emy seemed to impart new life to his patriotism. If, in the 
heyday of success in the world's metropolis, he was in danger of 
virtual expatriation, the evidence of interest and appreciation 
shown by his countrymen in thus securing his picture dispelled 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 119 

that danger. It doubtless added greatly to the influences which 
brought him back to a residence in America at a sacrifice that we 
cannot but regret. 

His gratitude and appreciation of the kindness of his friends 
he expresses at length in a letter to McMurtrie, dated June 13, 
1816, from which we give an extract : 

" When you first made me the generous offer of taking out my 
picture, you may remember with what implicit confidence I sub- 
mitted the entire management and disposal of it to yourself and 
Mr. Sully. I would not have done this if I had not been fuUy 
assured that, whatever might be the event, I should have every 
reason to be grateful ; for, even if it had wholly failed of profit, I 
should still have felt myself indebted for every exertion that 
kindness and liberality could make. If such would have been 
my feelings in the event of a total failure, you may well judge 
what I now feel at the account of this most agreeable result. 
I beg you both to accept my warmest and most grateful 
acknowledgments. The sale is in every respect highly gratify- 
ing, both as affording me a very seasonable supply, and on ac- 
count of the flattering circumstance attending it. I assure 
you I think most of the honor conferred by the Academy in be- 
coming the purchasers of my work. Will you express to them 
my sense of the honor done me. 

"If I am constrained from various circumstances to disap- 
point you as to the proposal respecting a picture from my sketch 
of ' Christ Healing,' I trust you will believe me as sensible of 
your kindness in making it, as if it had been in my power to 
comply with it. Upon reconsidering the sketch some months 
since (though stiU pleased with the general arrangement), I 
found the principal incident so faulty and inefficient, and my- 
self, at the same time unable to suggest any one better, that I 
was forced to come to the resolution of relinquishing it alto- 



120 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

gether ; or, at least, to lay it by for some future and more pro- 
pitious period, in the hope that my imagination might then sup- 
ply a more suitable incident. I may here observe that the uni- 
versal failure of all painters, ancient and modern, in their 
attempts to give even a tolerable idea of the Saviour, has now 
determined me never to attempt it. Besides, I think His char- 
acter too holy and sacred to be attempted by the pencil. 

" It is the first importance to a large work that the principal 
incident should be obvious and striking, leaving no doubt in any- 
one of its meaning. Now, in the incident I allude to, I have at- 
tempted to express the miracle of restored health to a sick man, 
and that I have failed of this is certain, because no one who has 
seen it (and I have shown it to several) has been able to guess my 
intentions. I could easily express disease in any stage of languor 
or emaciation, but there Avould then be no incident — merely a 
sick man waiting to be healed — which is but repeating what Mr. 
West has already so admirably done. My object was not to treat 
the subject thus, but in a different way — that is, to show both 
the operation and the effect of a miracle. The blind boy, or, 
rather, the boy that was blind (which you may recollect in the 
sketch) is, I think, a very happy incident ; for the miracle there 
is obvious, and clearly explains itself ; but as it is a miracle which 
has already been wrought it becomes necessarily subordinate. 

" Had I been equally successful in the principal object, who 
is supposed to be under the immediate influence of the Saviour's 
word, I should not only be satisfied, but have reason to think I had 
achieved something great. I still like all the rest of the sketch ; 
but this great and radical defect in it has compelled me to give it 
up. But were I even perfectly satisfied with it, I am afraid it 
would not be in my power to paint it on a large scale for less than 
eight hundred or a thousand guineas, without a loss, as it would 
employ me full eighteen months or two years, and in addition to 
my present expenses I should be obliged to hire a large room." 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 121 

" But, though it is not in my power, for the reasons I haye 
above stated, to engage in a large picture from this sketch, I 
should be most happy to undertake another subject of five or six 
figures, size of life, which would make a picture about the size of 
* St. Peter in Prison,' and this I could do for the sum you men- 
tioned, say five hundred guineas. (By the bye, the ' St. Peter ' 
employed me more than six months after you left London, in- 
stead of two, as I had calculated.) Such a picture I could 
paint in my present room, and could finish, I should hope, in 
somewhat less than a year. Should this be agreeable to you, 
you will say what kind of a subject you would prefer ; I think 
Scripture subjects, as being the most known and interesting to 
the world, are the best. Perhaps some splendid subject, uniting 
brilliancy of color with strong character and expression. Should 
the preceding meet your views, you have every reason to depend 
on my best efforts. 

" Whenever you send the portfolio of drawings, I will, with 
pleasure, attend to your request respecting them. Mr. "West, 
who is, I believe, one of the most learned in Europe in these 
things, will be happy, I am sure, to assist me in assigning to 
them the names of their proper authors. Since you thus en- 
courage me with the hope of selling the landscape, I will send it 
out in the course of the summer. I think I gave you a memo- 
randum of the price. I do not recollect whether it was one hun- 
dred and fifty or two hundred guineas. If it is worth anything, 
it is worth two, having cost me four months' hard labor. How- 
ever, I should be content with one hundred and fifty guineas, 
provided I get that sum without loss by exchange. 

" At the same time I shall send the picture of ' The Virgin 
and Child,' which, as I know it to be a great favorite with you, I 
beg you to accept as a small testimony of my esteem. I have 
lately improved it very much, having repainted the mother's head 
and the whole of the infant, as well as retouched the background. 



122 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

" I have sold the 'Gil Bias' to our countryman, Colonel Dray- 
ton. A nobleman wished to have bought it, but he was too late. 
Before you get this, it will have arrived, I suppose, in Philadel- 
phia, having been sent there to the care of Mr. John Yaughan. 
I have retouched it since you saw it here. 

"I do not remember whether Mr. Leslie had begun his 
' Murder of Rutland by Clifford,' before you left London. It is 
now in the Exhibition at Somerset House, and does him great 
honor. It is very finely conceived, and painted with a powerful 
hand. The figure of Rutland alone is sufficient to confirm his 
just pretensions to genius, a word too often misapplied. He 
possesses the rare merit of combining the excess of imploring 
terror with uncommon beauty. Clifford is also a fine though 
opposite character, and the background is managed with great 
spirit. 

"Mr. West has begun, on a grand scale, the subject of 'Death 
on the Pale Horse.' You must remember well his admirable 
sketch. 

" Begging you once again to accept my best thanks, I remain, 
dear sir, with great esteem, 

"Yours sincerely and obliged, 

"W. AiLSTON." 

" P.S. — In a letter to Mr. Leslie, Mr. Delaplaine, has done 
me the honor to inquire my terms for a large picture, fifteen 
feet, figures size of life. I have requested Mr. Leslie to reply 
that I could not undertake it without loss, for less than a thou- 
sand guineas, which I fear will be a disappointment to him." 

When the " Cavern Scene " was finished, Allston exhibited it 
in a collection in Pall Mall. There it attracted the attention 
and admiration of Colonel William Drayton, of Philadelphia, an 
old friend, who had known him in Charleston, just after his 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 123 

graduation. So pleased was the Colonel with the picture that 
he purchased it at once, without knowing by whom it was 
painted. Colonel Drayton thus relates the incident : 

" Allston wrote me only a single letter on the subject of ' Gil 
Bias,' with the beauty of which I was so much struck, whilst ex- 
amining the picture gallery in Pall Mall, that I immediately pur- 
chased it, and was exceedingly gratified afterward to learn the 
name of the artist, of which I had been previously ignorant, its 
insertion in one of the corners of the piece having escaped my 
notice." 

The " Cavern Scene " was by many considered one of the 
best in the large collection of Allston's pictures exhibited in 
Boston. In speaking of this picture he remarked to a friend 
that no part of it was painted directly from nature. This is 
another instance and evidence of the remarkable accuracy and 
memory of his eye. 

One day Hazlitt, the author, who wrote so pleasingly on 
art, and was the most prominent art-critic of his time, asked 
Allston where he found models for his heads, as he had never 
seen any like them in the streets of London, remarking that 
some of them looked like Asiatics. Allston said he did not 
paint them from models, but from his imagination. Hazlitt 
gave him a look of incredulity, which seemed to say, as inter- 
preted by Allston himself, "You are the greatest liar I ever 
met." 

The following is another letter to his friend McMurtrie, for 
whose persistent kindness in the sale of his pictures in America 
Allston felt under great obligations : 

"London, October 25, 1816. 

" My Deae Sik : I have at length the pleasure to inform you 
that, availing myself of your continued kindness, I have shipped 
and addressed to you the two pictures mentioned in my letter to 
you of June last, viz., the ' Landscape ' and the ' Mother and 



124 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

Child.' I wish you not to consider it now as the * Virgin and 
Child,' but simply as a mother watching her sleeping offspring. 
A 'Madonna' should be youthful; but my mother is a matron. 
Besides, there are other reasons, which I have not room to state, 
that would fix the propriety of the change now made in the title. 
The first, the ' Landscape,' to be exhibited and disposed of in 
any way that shall seem best to you. Of the other I beg your 
acceptance, as a small testimony of my esteem and gratitude. I 
have a double pleasure in offering this little present, inasmuch 
as, since retouching, I think it one of my best works, and as I 
know it will be possessed by one who can truly appreciate what- 
ever merit it may have. It does not always happen that the 
possessors of pictures are also possessed of taste ; and therefore 
it is a source of no small gratification to an artist to know that 
his works are cherished by those who will neither mistake nor 
overlook their excellences, however few or subordinate. 

" In my letter of June, alluded to just before, I had fixed the 
price of the landscape at from two hundred to one hundred and 
fifty guineas. Upon reconsidering this last price, I think it so 
low as to be tantamount to a complete sacrifice ; I must, there- 
fore, request you not to part with it by any means for less than 
two hundred guineas. Though I am very much in want of 
money, I should prefer keeping it all my life to disposing of it 
at so much below its value. But I commit it to such good hands 
that I feel perfectly easy as to the event. . . . 

" Would it not be possible to obtain an exemption from the 
duties by means of the Pennsylvania Academy ? For I find that 
all pictures, casts, prints, etc., intended for their use, are now free 
by law. I think the duties on pictures in America are uncon- 
scionable. Here, where they are considered very severe, the 
highest duty on my largest picture (even of 30 feet) never ex- 
ceeds eight pounds sterling ; for after four feet square the duty 
does not increase, whatever may be the size. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 125 

" My paper will not admit of any notice of the present world 
of art here. Leslie's picture of Clifford is, I suppose, arrived. I 
think you will agree with me that it does him great honor. He 
desires his best regards to you. Pray present mine to Mr. Sully, 
and believe me, with a true sense of your kindness, 

" Sincerely yours, 

"Washington Allston." 



CHAPTEE Xni. 

allston's second visit to paris, with leslie and collins. — 
gift to colebidge, and its appeeciation. — " ueiel in the 
sun" takes the highest peize at the exhibition oe the 
beitish institute. — leslie's opinion oe "elijah in the 
deseet." — "Jacob's deeam." — mes. Jameson's desceiption 
of it. — lines by woedswoeth. 

After the sale of his picture, " The Dead Man Bevived," 
Allston was induced by his friends Leslie and Collins to accom- 
pany them to Paris, to enjoy the galleries of the Louvre. Of 
this visit Collins writes : 

" It was in the year 1817 that I accompanied Allston and 
Leslie to Paris, where we benefited much by having Allston for 
our guide, he being the only one of the party who had visited 
that city before ; during our stay of about six weeks, Allston 
made a beautiful copy in the Louvre of the celebrated ' Marriage 
at Cana,' by Paul Veronese, and as Leslie had professional em- 
ployment in Paris he remained there, and we returned together 
to London ; during this visit I had, of course, the best oppor- 
tunities of becoming acquainted with my friend's real character, 
which in every new view I took of it became more satisfactory. 
The sweetness and subdued cheerfulness of his temper under the 
various little inconveniences of our journey was much to be ad- 
mired, and his great reverence for sacred things, and the entire 
purity and innocence of his conversation, coupled as it was with 
a power of intellect and imagination I never saw surpassed. 
Blessed be God for these qualities, these gifts more effectual to 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 127 

the pulling down of many strongholds and vain imaginations on 
my part — how then can I be too grateful to Heaven for my 
acquaintance with one to whom and to whose example I owe so 
much." 

The copy of " The Marriage in Cana of Galilee," mentioned 
by Collins, was thought to be the best ever made of that greatest 
picture of Paul Veronese ; that marvellous work of which Stuart 
said, " Were all the pictures in the world destroyed this alone 
would be sufficient to restore art." 

Upon this occasion he probably painted the picture, of which 
Leslie says : " I remember an exquisite pasticcio Allston painted 
from part of a picture by Titian ; the subject was the ' Adoration 
of the Magi,' and the portion of the picture which Allston imi- 
tated rather than copied, contained a white horse, most beau- 
tifully colored. He afterward gave this to Coleridge, and the 
frequent sight of it continued to delight me many years." 

Of this picture Coleridge wrote : 

" My Dear Allston : The bearer of this is a particular friend 
of mine, a German gentleman, of excellent good taste in painting, 
and himself a possessor of a very curious collection of the old 
Netherland masters. As he was sitting in our parlor talking with 
me, he kept his eye fixed on your picture, and at last he said, 
' 1 beg your pardon, but you have a valuable picture of some 
Venetian master.' I answered, ' Titian, do you think ? ' ' No,' 
said he, 'though he has the coloring of several of his early 
works, but the outline is too soft for him. He was crisp to a 
defect. It is more like a picture of Paul Veronese.' 

" He could scarcely believe me when I told him it was yours, 
though imitated from an old picture. He is exceedingly desirous 
to see * Jacob's Dream.' You will find him a man worth know- 
ing both in head and heart. When shall we see you ? 

"S. T. Coleridge." 



128 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

A lady who had great knowledge of pictures, and had lived 
and painted for many years among them, wrote Coleridge from 
Florence : " As to the picture you possess of Alls ton's painting, 
I saw the original, a Titian. His copy, if such it could be called, 
is decidedly one of the most wonderful I ever saw, and has 
all the spirit and feeling of originality, and the only picture 
that could be said truly to equal Titian in color ; in fact, Lau- 
rent, a famous picture-dealer, who came here from abroad and 
saw it at your home at Highgate, would not believe it a modern 
picture, or any other's than Titian's." 

Coleridge prized this picture very highly and bequeathed it 
by will to Mrs. Gillman, in whose family he was a beloved guest 
for many years before his death. She thus describes it : 

" My picture consists of one white horse, in a beautiful posi- 
tion, bending his neck gracefully, and licking himself just above 
the knee ; its countenance is so pleasant — perhaps, in its way, 
beautiful. There is a Greek, I believe, standing, his face toward 
you, with one hand on the saddle. Also a second horse, of which 
you see only the back part — the rider, who has on a turban and 
looks like a Turk, sitting on him quite at ease. There are other 
figures in the foreground, and in the back animals' heads are 
seen under an open shed, with a sort of penthouse top ; also the 
figure of an Indian." 

This picture was the probable inspiration of a letter from 
Coleridge to a lady friend, from which we give an extract : 

" I will take care, if God grant me life, that my unlucky dis- 
position shall be no injury to Allston. I should have done 
more, had I not been so anxious to do so much. I could 
not bear the thought of putting in an ordinary puff on such a 
man, or even an anonymous one. I thought that a bold avowal 
of my sentiments on the fine arts, as divided into poetry, first, 
of language; second, of the ear, and third, of the eye, and the 
last subdivided into the Plastic (statuary) and the Graphic 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 129 

(painting), connected, and, as it were, isthmused, with common 
life by the link of Architecture, exemplifying my principles by 
continued reference to Allston's pictures. 

" This would, from the mere curiosity of malignity and envy, 
answer our friend's pecuniary interests best. His fame he will 
achieve for himself, for which he has indeed but one thing to do. 
Having arrived at perfection — comparative perfection certainly — 
in coloring, drawing, and composition, to be as equal to these 
three in his expression, not of a particular passion, but of the 
living, ever-individualizing soul, whose chief and best meaning 
is itself, as even in this he is superior to the other artists." 

The project mentioned in the above letter was undoubtedly 
carried out, in a degree, in Coleridge's "Essays on the Fine 
Arts," published in the Appendix of Cottle's " Early Recollec- 
tions of S. T. Coleridge." 

Encouraged by the generous praise of Coleridge, and invig- 
orated by his trip to Paris, Allston entered his studio in 
London full of enthusiasm and eager for work. He had com- 
menced his " Jacob's Dream " and several smaller works. Of 
this time he thus speaks : 

" All, I was then in health, young, enthusiastic in my art, in 
a measure independent as to my pecuniary affairs, and I painted 
solely from the impulse within. I felt that I could do the work 
of a Titan or a Hercules. But from the moment I felt the press- 
ure of want, and began to look upon my pictures as something I 
must finish in order to get so much money, from that moment I 
worked to a disadvantage, and the spirit of the artist died away 
from me. I never did anything well in my art under the press- 
ure of poverty. I must be free, and £eel no motive but such as 
my subject itself will supply, to work to my own satisfaction 
and do justice to my art and to my own mind. I painted my 
pictures of ' Uriel ' and ' Elijah in the Desert ' in eight weeks, 
of which I gave five to the ' Uriel ' and three to the ' Elijah.' 



130 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

"'Uriel in the Sun'" x " is a colossal figure, foreshortened, 
nearly twice the size of life. I surrounded him and the rock of 
adamant on which he sat with the prismatic colors, in the order 
in which the ray of light is decomposed by the prism. I laid 
them on with the strongest colors ; and then with transparent 
colors, so intimately blended them as to reproduce the original 
ray ; it was so bright it made your eyes twinkle as you looked 
at it." 

In a letter to Washington Irving, Leslie speaks of the im- 
pression made on him by this picture as follows : " Allston has 
just finished a very grand and poetical figure of the angel 
Uriel sitting in the sun. The figure is colossal, the attitude and 
air very noble, and the form heroic without being overcharged. 
In the color he has been equally successful, and with a very rich 
and glowing tone he has avoided positive colors, which would 
have made him too material. There is neither red, blue, nor 
yellow in the picture, and yet it possesses a harmony equal to 
the best pictures of Paul Veronese. I hope you will be in Lon- 
don ere long to see it." 

This picture received the highest prize at the Exhibition of 
the British Institution, and was immediately purchased by the 
Marquis of Stafford, who at that time was vice-president of the 
Institution. This incident gave Allston an opportunity to per- 
form one of those generous acts so natural to his character, 
which is related by the grateful beneficiary, Brockhedon : 

" I do not remember the year when Allston received the first 
prize of the season for his fine picture of the angel Uriel, at the 
British Institution. In that year I also exhibited there my large 
picture of ' Christ Raising the "Widow's Son at Nain.' The second 
premium was awarded to me. The next day Allston called on 
me and said, with his peculiar delicacy, ' They have given me 
more and you less than was deserved, and I fear you must be 

* Paradise Lost, Book iii. 

>* 

X 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 131 

disappointed in your fair expectations, and may suffer some in- 
convenience from their not being realized ; for I know that your 
picture has been very expensive to you ; I do not want all that I 
have received, and I shall be really gratified if you will take part 
of it, use it, and repay me when you can.' I saw that I should 
have wounded his generosity if I had altogether refused it. I 
did take a small part, and when I repaid it I acknowledged the 
value of its use and his kindness to me by sending to him a 
packet of ultramarine, which I had brought from Rome ; an 
acknowledgment which would have distressed him if I had 
offered it in the form of interest for the sum he had so gener- 
ously lent me." 

Of the other picture, Allston mentions as having painted at 
this time, Leslie says : " ' Elijah in the Desert ' was painted with 
great rapidity ; I saw it a few days ago and was greatly struck 
with its wild grandeur, I cannot conceive the subject to be more 
finely treated." This picture was taken to America, but was 
afterward sold to Mr. Labouchere, M.P., and brought back to 
England. 

Soon after the Marquis of Stafford had purchased " Uriel in 
the Sun," certain lovers and patrons of English art conceived 
the idea of an annual Loan Exhibition, to which they were to 
contribute such pictures of the old masters as were in their 
possession. This idea met with coldness on the part of the 
London artists generally ; it was carried out, however, and the 
best Flemish, Venetian, Italian, and Spanish masters were 
admirably represented. At the opening, Sir Thomas Law- 
rence was observed to be profuse in his criticisms and fault- 
findings, and the artists generally followed his lead. Cuyp 
was too hot, Yandyck too cold, Titian, Veronese, Raphael, 
Tintoretto, and Murillo were in their way well enough, but, as a 
whole, the collection represented a period and progress in art 
quite below the modern standard. 



132 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

In the midst of the general detraction Allston was convers- 
ing with a group of gentlemen, and was heard to say, in reference 
to the pictures : " These suns make our stars hide their dimin- 
ished heads." To which the Marquis of Stafford, addressing 
himself to Allston, replied, " You, at least, need not say so." 

Allston was in pressing need of money, with no prospect of 
immediate relief, when Lord Egremont called at his studio in- 
tending to purchase his picture " Jacob's Dream." He invited 
Allston to accompany him to his house and see where it could 
be placed. Taking him into a room he asked if there was any 
space suitable. Allston pointed to one where the light would do, 
but it was not large enough. His Lordship said he would alter 
it to the required size by removing a door ; Allston advised him 
not to do it as the alteration would injure the architecture of 
the room. "Then," said he, "I will have it at my country- 
house at Pet worth." 

In regard to Allston's religious character much has been said. 
A very remarkable story is told of him as illustrating the efficacy 
of prayer. This might naturally have grown out of the incident 
connected with the purchase of " Jacob's Dream," and the seem- 
ingly providential call of Lord Egremont when the artist was in 
so great need of money. "We find no other basis for the story. 

Mrs. Jameson describes " Jacob's Dream " in these words : 
"The subject is very sublimely and originally treated, with a 
feeling wholly distinct from the shadowy mysticism of Rem- 
brandt and the graceful simplicity of Raphael. Instead of a 
ladder or steps, with a few angels, he gave the idea of a glorious 
vision, in which countless myriads of the heavenly host are seen 
dissolving into light and distance, and immeasurable flights of 
steps rising, spreading above and beyond each other, till lost in 
infinitude." 

At an artists' dinner in London, at which were present some 
of the most distinguished painters of the time — Royal Academi- 



Outline Sketch of Two Angels in "Jacob's Dream." 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 133 

cians and others — this picture was discussed. The praises it 
received were profuse. There was no dissent from the most 
exalted opinion of its merits. It was regarded as possessing, in 
a remarkable degree, all the elements required to produce the 
best effects in the highest range of ideal art. It was declared to 
be not only the star of the Exhibition, but, in its sphere, the 
greatest picture of modern times. In conception the picture 
was really unique. There was in it the self-assertion, the calm 
assurance of power — power to tread untried fields, to disregard 
high precedent, and to explore for himself the way of the ascend- 
ing and descending angels of the patriarch's vision. No one 
who sees it can fail to observe the peculiar sublimity of Allston's 
conception. It is remarkable in its departure from the common 
conventional ladder without violence to the textual authority, 
and without unduly straining a poetic license. The expanse of 
golden steps melting into the supernal ; the grace of the celestial 
beings rendered congruous and natural by the easy ascent ; the 
amplitude of space illimitable ; the repose of beauty — the lofty 
expression in every line of the angel figures ; the poetry of 
movement ; the spiritualization of familiar forms into images 
immaculate and heavenly, combine to make it a singularly im- 
pressive and beautiful picture. 

Not long after Allston's return from England he received a 
copy of Wordsworth's poem, "Composed upon an Evening of 
extraordinary Splendor and Beauty," with the accompanying 
note : " Transcribed by Mrs. Wordsworth, in gratitude for the 
pleasure she received from the sight of Allston's pictures, in 
particular ' Jacob's Dream.' " And at the end of the poem was 
added the following : 

"N.B. — The author knows not how far he was indebted to 
Mr. Allston for part of the third stanza. The multiplication of 
ridges in a mountainous country, as Mr. Allston has probably 



134 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

observed, are from two causes, sunny or watery haze or vapor ; 
the former is here meant. When does Mr. Allston return to 
England ? 

" Wm. Wordsworth." 

The third stanza only need be included here. 

And if there be whom broken ties 

Afflict, or injuries assail, 

Yon hazy ridges to their eyes 

Present a glorious scale ; 

Climbing suffused in sunny air 

To stop— no record hath told where ! 

And tempting fancy to ascend 

And with immortal spirits blend ! 

— Wings at my shoulders seem to play ; 

But rooted here I stand and gaze 

On those bright steps that heav'nward raise 

Their practicable way. 

Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad 

And see to what fair countries ye are bound ! 

And if some traveller, weary of his road, 

Hath slept since noontide on the grassy ground, 

Ye Genii to his covert speed, 

And wake him with such gentle heed 

As may attune his soul to meet the dower 

Bestowed on this transcendent hour ! 



CHAPTER XIY. 

ALLSTON's FINAL RETURN TO AMEBIC A. — LETTERS OF EARNEST PRO- 
TEST AGAINST HIS LEAVING ENGLAND. — ELECTION AS AN ASSO- 
CIATE OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY. — WARM LETTERS FROM 
COLLINS AND LESLIE. 

To quote Allston's own words: "A homesickness which (in 
spite of some of the best and kindest friends and every en- 
couragement that I could wish as an artist) I could not over- 
come, brought me back to my own country in 1818." Thus 
briefly did he touch upon the cause for making, in many re- 
spects, the most important move of his life. His career as an 
artist culminated at this time. He had painted his portraits of 
Coleridge and Dr. King, with other pictures, in Bristol ; he had 
finished "The Dead Man Revived," "Uriel in the Sun," and 
" Jacob's Dream." By these works he had secured substantial 
public recognition, having received on several occasions prizes 
from the British Institution and the Royal Academy. He had 
secured private patronage from distinguished men, connoisseurs, 
and lovers of art. Every avenue to preferment in the line of his 
profession was open to him ; social, literary, artistic distinction ; 
fame, fortune, academic honors — all invited, all urged him for- 
ward. America had furnished men who had figured conspicu- 
ously in England and left a lasting record in the annals of 
English art, but Allston seemed confessedly destined to surpass 
them all. As Morse wrote in a letter given elsewhere, "Mr. 
Allston will almost as far surpass Mr. West as Mr. West has 



136 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

other artists, and this is saying a great deal, considering the very 
high standing which Mr. West enjoys at present." 

It goes almost without saying, to those familiar with his 
career, that had Allston remained in England he would have 
succeeded "West as President of the Royal Academy. Morse 
spoke advisedly when he said he was looked upon by his con- 
temporaries in England as the one man capable of restoring the 
best art of the sixteenth century. Also Leslie, when he said of 
" Uriel in the Sun," "It is worthy to rank with the best works 
of Paul Veronese." In accord with this, we find in the author's 
copy of the " Sibylline Leaves," now owned by the family of the 
poet Longfellow, on the margin, opposite Allston's poem, 
" America to Great Britain," the following in Coleridge's hand- 
writing : " By Washington Allston, a painter born to renew the 
sixteenth century." 

In view of these high testimonies from competent witnesses, 
it is impossible not to feel regret at Allston's return to America. 
Leslie gives as his belief that one cause for his leaving England 
was the result of his open-handed charity to the street beggars 
in London. They made his life miserable by their incessant im- 
portunities at home and in the streets. Among other reasons 
leading to a step so ill-advised we may suggest the encourage- 
ment he derived from the sale of " The Dead Man Revived" to the 
Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts ; this no doubt strongly influ- 
enced his return, but probably that which more than anything 
else determined his action was the intelligence he received from 
Charleston about that time, that his patrimony was exhausted. 
Moreover, his love of country was a constantly stimulating mo- 
tive. It was an element of power in his ambition and in his 
work. His first great picture had taken the highest prize at the 
British Institution. It had won the praises of the best judges 
of art in London, but it was purchased by his own countrymen. 
Thus his patriotism probably increased that homesickness which 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 137 

he assigned as the sole cause for a step which proved fatal to 
the hopes of his friends and brought to an untimely end his 
great career. 

Of his English friends Allston says : " By the English artists, 
among whom I number some of my most valued friends, I was 
uniformly treated with openness and liberality. Out of the art, 
too, I found many fast and generous friends, and here, though 
I record a compliment to myself, I cannot deny myself the satis- 
faction of repeating the kind words of Lord Egremont a few 
weeks before I left England : ' I hear you are going to America,' 
said he. ' I am sorry to hear it. Well, if you do not meet with the 
encouragement which you deserve in your own country, we shall 
all be very glad to see you back again.' I have ventured to al- 
low myself this piece of egotism for the sake of my countrymen, 
who, I hope, will never let any deserving British artist, who 
should come among us, feel that he is not welcome. England 
has never made any distinction between our artists and her own ; 
never may America. 

" Among the many persons from whom I received attentions 
during my residence in London I must not omit Colonel Trum- 
bull, who always treated me with the utmost courtesy. Among 
my English friends it is no disparagement to any to place at their 
head Sir George Beaumont. It is pleasant to think of my obli- 
gations to such a man, a gentleman in his very nature — gentle, 
brilliant, generous. I was going to attempt his character, but I 
will not ; it was so peculiar and finely textured that I know but 
one man who could draw it, and that's Coleridge, who knew him 
well — to know whom was to honor." 

"When Sir George heard that Allston was going to leave Eng- 
land he wrote as follows : 

"Grosvenoe, Square, June 29, 1818. 

" My Deak Sik : I am very sorry I was from home when 
you called this morning, and it is with concern I hear of your in- 



138 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

tention to return to America immediately. I am far from the ex- 
clusive wish of limiting the arts to this or that country, for I am 
convinced the more they are spread the greater degree of emula- 
tion will be excited, and the more all the benefits they are capa- 
ble of giving to mankind will be of course extended, and they 
themselves will be brought to a greater degree of perfection. 
But I am convinced you are quitting this country at a moment 
when the extent of your talents begins to be felt, and when the 
encouragement you are likely to receive will bring them to per- 
fection, and you would then return to your native country fully 
qualified to improve and direct the exertions which I am happy 
to hear are now apparent in America. 

"However, whatever you may resolve upon, depend upon 
this, that you will be attended by the best wishes of both myself 
and Lady Beaumont that your endeavors will be crowned with 
all the success they so amply deserve. I am, my dear Sir, with 
much regard, 

" Sincerely yours, 

"George Beaumont." 

Charles E. Leslie said : " There can be no doubt but that 
Allston, had he remained in England, would very soon have 
been made an Academician. The feeling was unanimous in his 
favor among all the members, at the time when his pictures were 
seen here. Indeed, I am not certain but that, had he exhibited 
pictures with us after his departure he might have been elected." 

In a letter from W. F. Collard to Leslie, he says : " How 
many hours have dear Allston and I spent together, both by 
night and alone in his studio by day, and never once have I 
quitted him without considering him one of the most benevolent, 
intelligent, and interesting men I had ever known. There are 
some, and of the highest class, who are subject to let their imagi- 
nations outstrip their industry, and the dreams of their inten- 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 139 

tions occupy too much of that space which should be covered by 
prompt exertion. It was from a tendency of this sort that I 
thought observable in the disposition of our friend that I la- 
mented exceedingly his quitting England ; for this is the place 
where the furor of emulation, with its consequent spur to indus- 
try, was more likely to be kept up by the antagonism of talent 
than in his own country. 

"The picture which subsequently* procured his Academic 
honors gave him a position from which his ambition would not 
allow him to recede, and I therefore have full hope that if he had 
remained here his further efforts would have carried him to that 
height in his profession to which his rare talents were capable of 
bearing him, whereas the seating himself down in a more limited 
sphere, the want of rivalry (which few can bear with impunity), 
the praise he was likely to receive, and the ease with which he 
might live, might, I am fearful, prevent the full development of 
the abilities he so unquestionably possessed." 

Irving wrote to Leslie, "I shall try hard to see Allston be- 
fore he sails. I regret exceedingly that he goes to America, now 
that his prospects are opening so promisingly in this country. 
His ' Jacob's Dream ' was a particular favorite of mine. I have 
gazed on it again and again, and the more I gazed the more de- 
lighted I was with it. I believe I could at this moment take a 
pencil and delineate the whole with the attitude and expression 
of every figure." 

Allston says: "Leslie, Irving, and Sir Thomas Lawrence 
were the last persons I shook hands with before leaving Lon- 
don. Irving and Leslie had accompanied me to the stage, and 
Sir Thomas, who was passing by on his morning ride, kindly 
stopped to offer me his good wishes. It is pleasant to have the 
last interview with those whom we wish to remember associated 
with kind feelings." 

After a very stormy passage the ship which bore Allston to 



140 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

America arrived in safety. He thus expresses his emotions at 
that time : 

"We made Boston harbor on a clear evening in October. It 
was an evening to remember ! The wind fell and left our ship 
almost stationary on a long, low swell, as smooth as glass, and 
undulating under one of our gorgeous autumnal skies like a 
prairie of amber. The moon looked down upon us like a living 
thing, as if to bid us welcome, and the fanciful thought is still in 
my memory that she broke her image on the water to make part- 
ners for a dance of fireflies, and they did dance, if ever I saw 
dancing. Another thought recurs, that I had returned to a 
mighty empire ; that I was in the very waters which the gallant 
Constitution had first broken ; whose building I saw while at 
college, and whose ' slaughter-breathing brass,' to use a quotation 
from worthy Cotton Mather's ' Magnalia,' but now ' grew hot and 
spoke ' her name among the nations." 

Immediately after Allston's departure for America he was 
elected an Associate of the Royal Academy. His friend Collins 
was the first to notify him of the bestowal of this Academic 
honor. 

" London, November 4, 1818. 

" Deae Allston : From my very heart's core do I congratu- 
late you upon your election as an Associate of the Koyal Acad- 
emy, a circumstance as honorable to that body as to yourself, 
and of which I received the gratifying intelligence yesterday. I 
immediately sent to Leslie, who came over out of breath ; and 
all the news I had to communicate to him has, I believe, kept 
him, to a certain degree, in the same state ever since. Had you 
been here ! — but you will come. 

" And now to the fulfilment of your commission, to send all 
the news I can, to which end I shall give you a succession of such 
events as may serve to remind you of the ties you have in this 
country. The letter you sent me at Sir George Beaumont's 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 141 

came during dinner, and I, of course, made Sir George and her 
ladyship acquainted with that part of it relating to themselves. 
If I have any knowledge of the human heart, what the two said 
of you was direct from that spot. May all the success we that 
day wished you attend your steps. 

" With the scenery of the north I am charmed, and, consid- 
ering the time necessarily occupied in travelling, I have not been 
altogether idle. Your hints about Coleridge I did not fail at- 
tending to. With his wife I am pleased, and his elegant daugh- 
ter Sara I have made a painting of. She is a most interesting 
creature, about fifteen years of age, and the parties we occasion- 
ally form with these good people, Southey, Hartley Coleridge, 
etc., I shall not soon forget. 

"From Keswick I went to Scotland. After spending ten 
days in Edinburgh, I returned to Sir George's, and, with himself 
and Lady Beaumont, visited Ullswater and Ambleside, where we 
stayed some days with Wordsworth, with whom I am much de- 
lighted; and in some of our rambles, when he could have had no 
motive but that of gratifying his own love of truth, he left me 
perfectly persuaded that, among all your friends and admirers, 
you had not a more disinterested one than himself. The kind 
regards I am desired by Wordsworth, his wife, Southey, and 
Hartley to send to you, are testimonies of a friendship by no 
means common, and therefore will have their true weight with 
you. 

" Having now, at the least possible expense of style, told you 
so much, I have only to assure you of the warm wishes and 
hopes of all your friends, and (as you already know) of how much 
I am, my dear Allston, yours ever, 

" William Collins." 

" P.S. — I shall expect a letter from you. Come home and take 
your seat at the lectures ; have you no esprit de corps ? I pre- 



142 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

sented your poems to Lady Beaumont, who had never seen them, 
and I had the very high gratification to hear them spoken of in 
terms of considerable approbation not only by her ladyship but 
by Southey and Wordsworth. Southey said that, whatever de- 
fects some of them might have, he had no hesitation in saying 
that they could not have proceeded from any but a poetic mind ; 
in which sentiment he was most cordially supported by Words- 
worth, who was present at the time. Fare thee well, God bless 
you ! Write soon. Sir George Beaumont and Wordsworth pro- 
pose writing to you." 

Leslie's congratulations followed closely those of his friend ; 
he thus writes : 

11 London, November 7, 1818. 

" My Deae Fbiend : You will doubtless receive by this op- 
portunity various information of your election. You had ten 
votes out of fifteen. Need I say that all your friends most cor- 
dially rejoice at it. I carried the pleasing intelligence out to 
Highgate the day I heard it, and while I was there Mr. Gillman 
received a note from Phillips, the B>. A., informing them of it as 
a circumstance that he knew would give them the greatest pleas- 
ure. By the bye, Collins thinks that your picture of ' Jacob's 
Dream ' ought now to be exhibited at the Academy, and as he 
has no doubt you will concur in the same opinion, he intends 
proposing to Phillips to ask Lord Egremont's permission. He 
told me last night he had seen Sir George, who had just arrived 
in town, and who heartily partakes of the general pleasure on 
your account. He intends writing to you. 

" Coleridge is as well as he usually is; Mrs. Gillman is better 
than usual. When Collins was in Cumberland he made a sketch 
of Coleridge's daughter, a very interesting girl of fifteen, and it is 
by far the best portrait he ever painted The sentiment (for in 
speaking of it I may safely use that hackneyed word) is exqui- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 143 

site. I took it to show Coleridge as one of my own, to see if he 
would discover the likeness, which he did ; a proof that it must 
be very strong, as he has not seen her for many years and had 
not the most distant idea that it was intended for her. Cole- 
ridge is going to lecture again on philosophy and Shakespeare. 
Ogilvie is lecturing at the Surrey Institution ; Payne has written 
a tragedy, which has been received at Drury Lane and is to be 
speedily produced. The story is that of Junius Brutus. Kean 
plays Brutus. Irving is still in town, and, I believe, intends re- 
maining here. He is occasionally manufacturing. I have not 
seen Collard since his return, though I have called on him sev- 
eral times. 

" I called on Mr. West as soon as I heard of your election, but 
did not see him ; his health is pretty good. If Morse is in Bos- 
ton tell him I have received his letter of the 8th September, and 
will answer it immediately. I suppose the Doctor is married by 
this time ; if so, give him my love and sincere congratulations 
upon the occasion. We are in hourly expectation of the news of 
your arrival. 

" I hope your new title will encourage you to dash on boldly 
with ' Belshazzar.' Success and every blessing attend you. I 
have no expectation now of going to America this autumn, and 
when the spring arrives I shall wish to see the Exhibition at 
Somerset House, so that it is probable I may not get away till 
about the time of year you did. 

" Yours, with greatest affection, 

" Charles R. Leslie." 

About this time Allston wrote the following letter to Mc- 
Murtrie : 

" Boston, November 7, 1818 

" My Dear Sir : The enclosed, which was written more than 
three weeks ago, I have been prevented finishing before this by 



144 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

such incessant engagements and excitements as have left me not 
one collected hour in which I could calmly sit down to write. 
I therefore beg you to excuse the delay, and take my wish to 
have been more punctual for the performance. . . . 

" The success I have lately met with in England left me but 
one finished picture to bring with me, ' Elijah in the Wilder- 
ness,' and which, had I remained a few weeks longer, I had the 
prospect of also transferring to another proprietor. I have 
brought, however, several others, on the stocks, some of which 
are considerably advanced, particularly ' Belshazzar's Feast, or 
the Handwriting on the Wall ' — sixteen by twelve in size, which, 
I believe, is several feet larger than ' The Raising of the Dead 
Man.' I purpose finishing it here. All the laborious part is over, 
but there remains still about six or eight months' work to do to it. 

" As I get on with it and other smaller works, which I may 
probably proceed with at the same time, I will take the liberty, 
occasionally, to drop you a line. In the spring or summer I may 
not unlikely pay you a visit. I have a great desire to see your 
city, and the state of Arts there. Though I have not the pleas- 
ure of a personal acquaintance with Mr. Sully, I yet so well 
know him through his friends, and the friendly assistance he, in 
conjunction with yourself, has rendered me, that I must in a par- 
ticular manner beg you to present my respects. 

" I left Leslie well. He intends embarking for America in 
the spring. He has lately finished a beautiful little picture, 
'Anne Page inviting Master Slender in,' from 'The Merry Wives 
of Windsor.' It is finely composed, and I thought it his hap- 
piest effort. 

" I remain, dear sir, sincerely yours, 

" Washington Allston." 

And in a letter dated Boston, December 14, 1818, he 
writes : 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 145 

" Mr. Kogers has kindly offered to see to the shipment for 
Charleston, S. C, of my picture, namely, the large landscape of 
Swiss scenery, with figures, representing ' Diana in the Chase,' 
which I sent out from London, to your care, about two years 
ago. . . . Will you gratify him by showing him your little 
picture, by me, of ' The Mother and Child ? ' 

" Stuart has painted an admirable portrait of Trumbull, who 
has had great success here with his picture, having got, in three 
weeks, seventeen hundred dollars by its exhibition." 
10 



CHAPTEE XV. 

LETTERS OF THE YEAR 1819 — FROM G. C. VERPLANCK, C. R. LESLIE, 
SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, AND ALLSTON. 

The following letter, dated London, February 6, 1819, from 
C. E. Leslie, was in reply to his first news from Allston after the 
latter's return to America : 

"My Dear Friend: I received, sometime ago, yours of De- 
cember 4th, which I must beg your pardon for not answering 
sooner. I had before received the pleasant intelligence of your 
safe arrival and cordial reception by your friends. The dangers 
of your voyage, must, if possible, have given you a keener relish 
for the endearments of home. 

" Five commissions for small pictures ? Bravo ! I hope this 
will last, and I shall hear by the next opportunity that the hos- 
pital has engaged you to paint ' Belshazzar ' for them. The 
British Gallery is now open, but Lord Egremont, who is out of 
town, did not send your picture there. As you are an Associate, 
all your friends presume you would wish it to be at the Acad- 
emy, particularly now that Lord Egremont has not sent it to the 
Gallery. Phillips mentioned it to me, and said he would un- 
dertake to ask Lord Egremont. 

" They have placed my ' Anne Page ' very well at the Gallery, 
and it has already been highly spoken of by some of the papers ; 
I have great hopes of selling it. Newton has sent there a very 
beautiful picture of ' Falstaff in the Buck-basket,' which was mis- 
taken by one of the editors for Stephenoff, and highly praised. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 147 

The Exhibition is rich in small pictures. There is a beautiful 
little sunny gem by Wilkie, of ' China Menders at a Cottage 
Door.' Two very clever sketches by John Chalon, of Parisian 
scenes, in which the present French character is admirably hit. 
A beautiful one by Alfred Chalon, of Moliere reading one of his 
plays to his housekeeper ; a very fine group of fighting horse- 
men by Cooper ; a falling figure, foreshortened against a blue 
sky, by Etty, which in purity and force of color resembles Paul 
Veronese ; a Jew's head, as a matter of course, by Jackson ; and 
though I mention it last, yet very far from least, a magnificent 
picture of the 'Fall of Babylon' by Martin, which, I think, even 
surpasses his ' Joshua.' I need say no more. It attracts general 
admiration, and Sir John Leicester has been to see him on the 
strength of it. I hope it will benefit his purse. 

" I am at present painting a picture on commission for Mr. 
Dunlop for one hundred guineas. The subject is from the 112th 
number of the ' Spectator,' Sir Roger de Coverley and the Spec- 
tator going to church, surrounded by Sir Eoger's tenants. The 
background is from a sketch of Mamhead Church, I made in 
Devonshire. It will contain about fourteen principal figures, the 
largest of which will be about sixteen inches high, the canvas 
between four and five feet long, and between three and four high. 
With the sketch, and as far as I have proceeded with the picture, 
I am far better pleased than with anything I ever attempted be- 
fore. Collins has very nearly completed a most excellent pict- 
ure for Sir John Leicester. It is a grander scene than he ever 
painted before, made up from his Cumberland sketches and the 
most interesting picture of English mountainous scenery I ever 
saw. He has introduced a group of figures in his best style, and 
over the whole picture he has thrown his greatest luxuriance of 
color and execution. 

" I saw Irving to-day. I wish, when you have leisure, you 
would write to him; he will probably remain in London some 



148 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

time. By the bye, if you have not already done it, pray write to 
Collins. You know he sometimes annoys himself causelessly. 
He talks a great deal about you, and is constantly calculating 
upon all the chances that may bring you here again. As for my- 
self, I will not engage you to any regular correspondence. Write 
often as you feel inclined, and delay it as long as you like, being 
to me as assured of one thing, that your letters, whenever they 
do come, will be most dearly acceptable to me, who must be ever, 
while I have life, yours truly, 

"C.E.Leslie." - 

The following, from Allston to Verplanck, is dated at Boston, 
March 12, 1819 : 

" My Dear Sir : Pray accept my thanks for your book. I 
like it exceedingly, and know not how I could better express my 
pleasure in the perusal than by saying that it appeared to me 
just what it ought to be ; concise, yet eloquent. The character of 
Penn I knew but little of, of Eoger Williams nothing more than 
as the principal founder of the town of Providence ; but Berkeley 
had long been a favorite with me, and I was pleased to find his 
character so happily touched by your pencil ; it seems to have 
been sketched con amove. He is one of the very few philoso- 
phers whom we can love as well as admire, for, as you well ob- 
serve, even his most eccentric flights are marked by a moral 
splendor. In the character of Las Casas, also, I think you have 
been eminently successful. Would not his adventures with a 
little embellishment furnish a good subject for a tale ? Perhaps 
you will be gratified to learn that your book is also liked by 
others ; Mr. Quincy in particular spoke of it to me in high 
terms. The North American has a review of it, which I under- 
stand is quite favorable, but I have not read it. Now that your 
pen is resumed, I hope that you will not soon lay it aside. We 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 149 

want some good books on national subjects, and you have shown 
yourself equal to the task of supplying them. 

"I must not close this without some account of what I am 
doing. At present I am engaged on two small pictures, which 
will be finished in a few days. After these I shall proceed with 
some on commission, somewhat larger, and probably by June I 
shall be enabled to go on with the large picture I began in Eng- 
land of Belshazzar's impious feast, which I hope to make profit- 
able by exhibition. After that, if it please God, I am commis- 
sioned and shall paint a large picture for the hospital in this 
town, the subject not yet determined, but it will be from Script- 
ure. So you see my friends here are disposed to give me sub- 
stantial welcome. I had a letter from Leslie lately ; I am sorry 
to find that he does not intend returning to America before this 
time next year. Have you heard from Irving ? I hope before 
the summer passes to see you in New York. What are the ar- 
tists there quarrelling about ? Certainly not to advance art, or 
even themselves. 

" I remain, sincerely yours, 

"Washington Allston." 

In the spring or early summer of 1819, Allston received the 
announcement that he had been elected an honorary member 
of the New York Historical Society. The announcement was 
accompanied by the following letter from Gulian C. Yerplanck : 

" Dear Sir : The above has just been handed to me to for- 
ward to you, and lest you should think so empty an honor not 
worth the postage which it will cost you, I take the liberty to fill 
up the sheet. We had elected Colonel Trumbull one of the Yice- 
Presidents, in compliment to his talent as an historical painter, 
and I therefore thought it proper that you should share in the 
honors, such as they are, of the Institution. 



150 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

" You suggest Las Casas's history to me as furnishing the 
groundwork of a tale. I hardly think that he could be made the 
hero ; he might, however, be introduced with great effect, as in- 
deed Marmontel has already employed him in 'The Incas.' Per- 
mit me, in my turn, to recommend him to you. What do you 
think of (as the subject of a small picture) Las Casas reproach- 
ing Ferdinand with the personal guilt of the crimes of his sol- 
diers in New Spain, and the monarch conscience-struck and 
trembling before him ? The scene might be either in the midst 
of the court, which would give room for great variety of expres- 
sion, or you may presume it to have taken place at a private 
audience, which will give you a scene like that of Nathan and 
David, a subject, by the way, which I do not remember ever to 
have seen managed with much ability. I would not trust to in- 
vention for the countenance and person of Las Casas, but would 
embody him with the form of Fenelon, such as we have him in 
the better portraits and engravings of him. 

" I have a literary plan which I shall embody as soon as I 
find opportunity and materials. It is a sketch of the literary 
history of this country, containing notices of the various original 
works printed here ; views of controversies, religious and politi- 
cal ; biographical and critical sketches of distinguished literary 
men, from Cotton Mather and George Winthrop to Barlow and 
D wight, with, perhaps, views of the state of eloquence at the 
bar and in the pulpit, of the public taste and education. The 
plan is yet very crude, and I do not know whether it will be 
a memoir to be read before one of our societies or an inde- 
pendent work. If I can get the materials, I have no doubt 
that I can make a most entertaining book, whatever its real 
value may be. 

" I am sorry to hear that Leslie still lingers in England. I 
should like to send him and Collins a copy of my ' Historical 
Discourse,' but I do not know their addresses. I much fear that 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 151 

Irving will loiter about London for a long time and waste the 
most useful part of his life out of his proper sphere. I perceive 
by your frontispiece to the new edition of ' Knickerbocker,' that 
you have become an accomplice of his in calumniating the 
fathers of this State, of whose fame I consider myself the cham- 
pion. The new edition, I learn, is curtailed and corrected, but 
has no new matter. 

" I am, yours very truly, 

" G. C. Verplanck." 

Following is a brief letter from Allston to Mr. McMurtrie : 

"Boston, April 26, 1819. 

" My Dear Sir : Agreeably to your wishes I made inquiries 

of Mr. respecting the expense of living in Italy, and he says 

that a family may live very comfortably in Pisa for twenty-five 
hundred dollars per annum ; in Florence for less. He has not 
been in Italy, I believe, since 1816. Probably the expenses 
may be now somewhat increased, in consequence of the present 
numbers of English residents. But the English now, I under- 
stand, live far less profusely abroad than formerly ; indeed, many 
go abroad to nurse their fortunes. I do not remember the pre- 
cise sum it cost me in Rome, but I believe it was somewhere near 
three hundred pounds sterling per annum, though many that I 
knew, who were better managers, lived equally well for a third 
less. I beg you to accept my thanks for your kind invitation ; 
but I fear it will not be in my power to leave Boston for a year 
at least, on account of my engagements. . . . My friend 
and pupil, Morse, is meeting with great success in Charleston. 
He is engaged to paint the President for the City Hall. 
" Sincerely yours, 

"Washington Allston." 



1 5 2 WASHING TON ALLS TON 

Under date of May 15, 1819, Leslie gavo Allston a full 
budget of Loudou art news, as follows : 

" My Deau Slit : If I had not lately heard of you by the way 
of Philadelphia, I should be very uneasy at your long silence. I 
conclude you must have written and your letters miscarried. In 
my sister's last letter she tells mo Sully has heard that you have 
taken a painting room for three years, and that the hospital at 
Boston is going to have your large picture of ' l>elshazzar.' I 
hope this last, may be true. I enclose you some notices of the 
Exhibition from the Examiner, Your picture of 'Jacob's 
Dream' looks beautifully; it is in an excellent situation, at the 
end of the inner room, opposite the door, and in the centre. It 
is on a, line with the eye. Collins varnished it, with the permis- 
sion of Lord Egremont. It is very greatly admired, and all 
your friends wish you could see it there. 

"My ' Sir Roger do Goverley ' is the most successful picture I 
ever painted. It has gained me an introduction to Sir George 
Beaumont, with whom I dined a day or two ago. Sir George 
mid Lady Beaumont talked a great deal in your praise, and 
seemed bo regret very much that you had left this country. Sir 
George intends writing to you. They are going to make a torn* 
through Switzerland very soon. The success of 'Sir Roger' 
mikes mo hope I shall be enabled to live without painting por- 
traits. 

" To return to the Exhibition. Wilkie's ' Penny Wedding ' is, 
I think, the best picture he has painted, for color and effect, and 
equal to any of his others in character and expression. It is 
painted for fche Prince Regent as a companion to his ' Blind- 
Man's-Buff.' Caloott's 'Rotterdam ' is a most admirable picture. 
I like him better than Turner this year. He has given, what is 
not usual (ov him, a very beautiful sky, and has left out those 
heavy, leathery clouds he used to be so fond of. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 153 

" Turner has painted Richmond Hill, and I think has not 
done justice to the scene. In arriving at splendor of effect he 
seems to me to be meretricious, both in this and in a picture of 
an orange-ship striking on a bar. There are, however, in them 
both very wonderful things, and what no one but Turner can do. 

" Poor old Mr. West has been very ill, and is now a little bet- 
tear. He was unable to attend the dinner at the Academy this 
year, which I believe is the first time he has missed. I have not 
seen or heard of Coleridge or the Gillmans for a long time. Ir- 
ving is still in London, and is at present in high spirits ; he has 
just sent off the third number of his work to America. Haydon 
and Carey have had a violent quarrel. Carey was attacked in the 
' Annals of Art,' and he has returned the salute in an octavo vol- 
ume, identifying Haydon with the ' Annals,' and exposing the 
whole system of puffing by which Haydon has done himself so 
much harm. There is some hopes that the attack will do him 
good. He has not answered it, and there is a probability that 
he will lay aside the pen for the pencil." 

May 19, 1819, Yerplanck wrote from New York to Allston as 
follows : 

" My Dear Allston : I have been intending for this last fort- 
night to answer your kind letter, but I fear you have communi- 
cated to me some portion of your spirit of procrastination. You 
were right in your conjecture of my being the writer of the para- 
graph alluding to your ' Belshazzar,' but I have no concern with 
the paper in which it appeared further than that one of the 
persons most interested in it is a relation of mine, so that I can 
occasionally make use of tho paper for the service of my friends. 
I send you the article in question, together with another paper 
containing a witty but malicious attack on our poor little Acad- 
emy. The Exhibition, however, is better than our maligners 



154 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

have anticipated, as you may judge of from the catalogue which 
I send you. I think the effect of this Exhibition is very visible 
in the work of our artists ; and in a city of this size a little 
inquiry always enables us to find some good pictures of the old 
masters, or great foreign artists, which, while they add to the 
interest of the collection, do something toward forming the public 
taste. It is, to be sure, our ' day of small things,' but still, ac- 
cording to the wise man, not to be ' despised.' 

" I was glad to hear from you that Irving was not idle, and I 
have since been enabled to judge for myself how he has been 
employed. It is a sort of a secret, and if you are not in it, I 
must not betray confidence. As profit is now essential to Irving, 
I must bespeak of your North American friends the privilege of 
using their pages in such a way as his friends here may think 
advisable to promote the circulation and reputation of his pro- 
duction. Do not, however, make this public at present. 

"I hope you have not altogether abandoned your plan of 
visiting us. Perhaps a little excursion up the river might be of 
use to the artist as well as amusing to yourself (a distinction 
which I suspect I borrowed from Mr. Puff in the ' Critic'). If 
anything in the way of criticism on our artists should appear in 
the papers I will send them to you. The Advocate has gener- 
ally something on the subject, and pretty well done, though in a 

censorious spirit. 

"Yours truly, 

" G. C. Verplanck." 

Following are letters from Sir George Beaumont and Leslie 
to Allston, and from Allston to McMurtrie : 

From Sir George Beaumont to Allston. 

" Grosvenor Square, May 29, 1819. 
" My Dear Sir : I feel myself culpable for having so long 
neglected to thank you for your book of beautiful poems, and 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 155 

expressing my sincere regret at your leaving England. Cole- 
ridge, you know, has observed, that every great and original poet 
must create the taste by which he is to be relished, as far as he 
is great and original. This is certainly applicable to painters 
also, and is necessarily the work of time. This state of probation 
you had passed, and your value would soon have been well ap- 
preciated ; it was therefore an additional grief to your friends at 
losing you, that you should leave them at a moment when they 
delighted themselves at the thought of seeing your labors re- 
quited. 

" Your picture at the Exhibition looks admirably, and I have 
heard the Royal Academy much regret your absence, and had 
intended to elect you a member of their body, and indeed would 
have done so notwithstanding your absence, could they have re- 
ceived assurance that you meant to return. You will be con- 
cerned to hear our valuable and venerable friend Mr. West was 
so ill it was not in his power to preside at the annual dinner. 
I saw him day before yesterday, and although I hope he was bet- 
ter he was still very feeble and unable to stand. I believe I have 
frequently expressed to you my high opinion of his merit, and 
when we consider the state of art in this country, particularly the 
time in which he has with such laudable exertion persevered, the 
greatest praise is due to his labors. Indeed, if we consider the 
disadvantages of his situation when he first turned his mind to 
art, we must admit that such a progress, under such circum- 
stances, is not to be found elsewhere in the annals of painting. 
Without anything to direct his tastes but a few paints, the re- 
ligion of his parents inimical to his pursuits, I believe about the 
age of twenty he left America for Italy, and by his astonishing 
perseverance in about four or fixe years he produced not only 
the picture I have, but many others of pure classical merit. 
Whenever we lose him the arts will experience a severe and al- 
most irreparable loss. 



156 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

" Our friend Wordsworth has just published his ' Peter Bell,' 
which has brought all the minor wits about his ears, and al- 
though he seems insensible to the hum and venom of these 
gnats, I own I wish he would reserve these small poems, which 
afford such scope for ridicule and misrepresentation to injure and 
traduce him, for future publication, whatever their merits and 
beauties may be, and every man of feeling will allow them to be 
great, and come forward with his great works. Yet I have no 
doubt time will do him ample justice, and although the good his 
works must effect sooner or later is indisputable, yet I am un- 
willing the present generation should pass away without receiv- 
ing the full advantages of his instructions, or he himself pass 
through life without his due share of fame, and his family lose 
the profits of his honorable labors. I send you, by the kindness 
of your friend Mr. Leslie, a copy of * Peter Bell.' I must add 
that Mr. Leslie has obtained great credit by his picture of ' The 
Spectator ' at Sir Boger de Coverley's ; for character and expres- 
sion it stands very high indeed. Mr. Collins has introduced me 
to him, and I find him a most interesting young man, and I hear 
he is as deserving as he appears to be. 

" Your ' Jacob's Dream ' looks poetically beautiful, and is 
highly approved of. Our friend Collins has also excelled him- 
self in a coast scene. Lady Beaumont unites with me in best 
wishes, and cannot help uniting with them a hope of your 
speedy return to England. We are to set off this week on a 
tour to Switzerland, and if health is granted to us we expect 
great pleasure. 

" I hope you found your mother well. 

" Ever truly yours, 

"G. Beaumont." 



WASHINGTON- ALLSTON 157 

From Leslie to Allston. 

i( London, August 6, 1819. 

" My Deae Sir : I received, a short time ago, yours of June 
20th, by the Triton, which gave me great pleasure. I had been 
delighted some time before by the intelligence of your commis- 
sion from the hospital, contained in your letter to Collins. In 
my last I gave you some account of the Exhibition ; your picture 
looked as well as you could have wished. ... At the close of 
the Exhibition I saw it safe home to Lord Egremont's. He has 
hung it up in the large room, the first you enter upstairs. I am 
sorry I have not by me any criticism on 'Jacob's Dream,' but the 
one in the Examiner is not a good one. I regret also that I have 
no critique on my own to send you. The Marquis of Lansdowne 
has commissioned me to make a copy of ' Sir Roger ' for him. 

" I am at present painting a picture of a party spending a day 
in the woods, which is a very common thing with the people of 
the middle class in the summer. They go out in a ' shay cart,' 
as they call it, take their provender with them, and choose some 
retired spot, where they dine and drink their tea, and come home 
in the evening. It affords an opportunity of painting a domes- 
tic group with rural accompaniments. I lately spent a fortnight 
at Epping Forest, and in my rambles I lighted on some parties 
of the kind I have described, which suggested it for a sub- 
ject. . . . 

"You will have seen, ere this, the two first numbers of 
Irving's ' Sketch-Book.' "We have heard but little of the recep- 
tion of the first number, but that little is gratifying to himself 
and friends. He is, in consequence, in very good spirits about 
it. I wish you would write to him. 

" I have not seen Coleridge or the Morgans lately, but hope 
to visit them soon. I have heard that you are making some ds- 



158 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

signs from Sir "Walter Scott's novels. They afford excellent 
material, though the picturesque scenes with which they abound 
are almost too highly finished by the author to leave anything 
for the painter to do but merely follow him, which is some dis- 
advantage. 

" I send you, by this opportunity, the trees by Lewis, and a 
little print he has made from my sketch of ' Chinkford Church,' 
which I believe you did not see. All your friends that I am 
acquainted with speak of you most affectionately whenever I see 
them, and desire me to remember them when I write, which I do 
in a bunch. Poor old Mr. West has been feeble for some time. 
I called on him to remember you, as you desired, and he ap- 
peared much pleased to hear of your welfare. He said the 
Academy had never done a more proper thing than electing you 

a member. 

" God bless you, says 

"0. E. Leslie." 

From Allston to McMurtrie. 

"Boston, October 30, 1819. 

" My Deae Sik : So far from having taken any exception to 
the contents of the letter alluded to in your last, I felt myself in 
a particular manner obliged for the friendly interest you mani- 
fested in it for my professional success ; and it was my inten- 
tion so to have expressed myself in reply, and I should have done 
so had I answered it when I ought. But while I still beg you to 
believe me sensible to the friendly motive which advised my 
sending on the picture of ' Elijah in the Wilderness ' for exhibi- 
tion, I cannot avail myself of the advice. My reason is this : 
From all my experience in England, both in my own case and 
that of other artists there, I have always found that every suc- 
cessive exhibition of a picture lessens its chance of selling. 
Those who would perhaps buy a picture from an artist's room 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 159 

while it is fresh in their minds and unseen but by a few, are apt 
to look on it with indifference, or at least with diminished inter- 
est, when it becomes the gaze of the multitude. It is owing to 
this that Turner, Collins, and other artists of the first rank in 
England still retain some of their best works, though painted 
five or six years ago. 

" As soon as I accomplish anything of sufficient importance 
to describe to you, I will send you some account of it. . . . 
Want of funds has in some degree retarded me, but I have got 
agoing again, and shall soon proceed with ' Belshazzar.' Have 
you any news in the way of arts ? 

" I remain, dear sir, with sincere regard, 
" Yours truly, 

" Washington Allston." 



" Deae Leslie 



From Allston to Leslie. • 

" Boston, November 15, 1819. 



" Your letter by the London packet, together with the 
prints, has been received. Tell Frank Collins I feel greatly 
obliged to him for hunting up the admirable print of Lieven's 
' Lazarus,' which I value more than I should twenty of Lebrun's 
battles, fine as they are. Pray say to him that when he has col- 
lected for me to the amount of ten pounds, I wish him to stop, 
until I shall be a little more in cash, when I will write to request 
him to proceed. Thank him also for the present of his brother's 
print of the sea-coast ; I am glad to have such a remembrance of 
the picture, and accept yourself my thanks for the print of your 
church. I like it exceedingly. 

" The critiques on your ' Sir Koger ' and my ' Jacob,' from 
the New Monthly Magazine, were republished here before I got 



160 WASHINGTON- ALLSTON 

the Magazine you sent. I find, as I supposed, they were written 
by Mr. Carey, indeed I thought they must have been by him, as 
there is not one of the London picture critics who could have 
done them half so well. Pray present him my best thanks for it. 
He has described your picture so well that I could almost copy 
it from the description. I heartily congratulate you on its suc- 
cess, and hope that it may prove a trusty pioneer for you to fame 
and fortune. The last, however, is only dreamt of by young 
painters; a dream which becomes dimmer and dimmer as we 
advance in life. But no matter, the art itself has so much in- 
trinsic pleasures for its votaries that we ought to be satisfied if 
to that is added but enough of the Mammon to make the ends 
of the year meet. Indeed I often think, with Collins, that if a 
painter who really loved his art had, together with fame, as much 
wealth as he wished, he would be too happy in this world ever 
to be in a suitable state of mind to leave it. I hope, notwith- 
standing, that Collins is getting money so as to lay up something 
at the end of each year ; for a little more than we have, I trust, 
would do neither of us any harm, but everything is for the best 
so we do our duty to Heaven. Tell him I think and talk a great 
deal about him (as I do also about you), talk to those whom he 
has never seen, but who in feeling an interest in all I love and 
esteem, require not the aid of sight to admit him and you among 
the number of their friends. 

" How mysterious, when we ponder over it, is this communica- 
tion by words, and how real and distinct an image do they create 
in our minds of objects far removed, even of those long buried in 
the grave, over which centuries have passed. Indeed so familiar 
is the image of Sir Joshua to me, his manners, habits, modes of 
thinking, and even of speaking, created by the description of 
him, that I feel almost persuaded at times I had actually been 
acquainted with him. What a world is that of thought ! And 
what a world does he possess whose thoughts are only of the 




Unfinished Portrait of Allston by Himself when a 
Young Man. 



In the possession of R. Charlotte Dana, of Boston. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 161 

beautiful, the pure, aud holy. How fearful then is his where the 
vindictive and base and sensual make the sum. 'As the tree 
falleth, so shall it lie.' . . . 

" I write without order whatever comes uppermost, and con- 
sequently have left myself too little room to tell you all I wished. 
I have painted a small picture from Spenser, and a head of Bea- 
trice, both just sold. I shall soon proceed with the ' Belshazzar,' 
then the hospital picture, and no more small pictures. Morse 
has spent the summer here, and has just finished a large whole- 
length portrait of a beautiful girl wandering amid the ruins of a 
Gothic abbey. 'Tis well drawn, composed, and colored, and 
would make a figure even at Somerset House. I always thought 
he had a great deal in him, if he would only bring it out by ap- 
plication, which you will be glad to hear he at length has ac- 
quired. Circumstances made him industrious, and being con- 
tinued, his industry has grown a habit. He leaves town this 
week for Washington, where he is to paint a whole-length of the 
President for the City Hall, Charleston. 

" I have written to Mr. Howard, the Secretary of the Boyal 
Academy, enclosing to him a paper he sent me for my signature, 
and have requested him to deliver my diploma to you, which I 
will thank you to have put into a deal box, and to deliver to Cap- 
tain Tracy, to bring out to me when he returns. Tell me all 
about the artists. What is Welles doing ? Give my best and 
most affectionate regards to Irving, and tell him I will write by 
the next opportunity. His 'Sketch-Book' is greatly admired 
here. I like all the articles. Above all give my regards to Mr. 
West, to whom I have written a note enclosed to Mr. Howard. 
" God bless you, yours ever, 

Washington Allston." 
11 



CHAPTEE XVI. 

LETTEES OF 1820 TO 1824 EEOM ALLSTON AND LESLIE. 

Interesting reference to AUston's work during the years from 
1820 to 1824 will be found in the following letters : 

From G. B. Leslie to Allston. 

"London, March 3, 1820. 
"My Deae Sie: 

" Since my return I have painted a copy of ' Sir Roger ' for 
Lord Lansdowne, and am now engaged on a picture of a citizen 
and his family 'gypsying ' (as it is called), or spending a day in 
the woods in the manner of gypsys. It contains eight figures, 
and I hope to complete it for Somerset House. 

" Martin has painted a picture of Macbeth and Banquo meet- 
ing the witches on the blasted heath ; it is as usual tremendously 
grand. He is now employed on your subject of ' Belshazzar,' mak- 
ing it an architectural composition with small figures, the writ- 
ing on the wall to be about a mile long. Willes has very much 
improved ; he made his debut this year at the Gallery with his 
picture of 'Danger,' from Collins's poem. It looks extremely 
well there. He will exhibit a large landscape at the Academy, 
which I think will do him great credit. 

"My sister sent me, some time ago, a paragraph from a news- 
paper containing an extremely well-written description of your 
picture ' Florimel.' It brought it completed before my eyes. I 
am sure such a subject treated in your way must make an ex- 
quisite picture. 

" The Gallery is now open, and except in the landscape de- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 163 

partment I think it one of the best exhibitions I have seen. 
Newton has there a beautiful little picture of an old man reading 
some dull book to a young girl, without perceiving that she is 
fast asleep. The corner of a love-letter emerging from her bod- 
ice speaks for itself. It was purchased almost immediately by 
a Mr. Chamberlain, a perfect stranger to Newton. Wilkie's pict- 
ure of the ' Interior of a Highland Whiskey Still ' is very fine. 
The master of the place, an old fellow of herculean make and 
somewhat corpulent, with his kilt and bonnet, and a brace of 
pistols in his belt, is criticising a glass of the spirits, which he 
holds between him and the light, half closing one of his keen 
eyes and smacking his lips with the air of a perfect connoisseur ; 
it is, I think, one of Wilkie's happiest efforts. 

" Young Landseer's picture of the two dogs scratching a man 
out of the snow is the most interesting animal picture I ever 
saw. One is licking the hand of the man (who appears to be 
dead or almost so) as if to assure him that help is near, while 
the other is barking or howling for assistance ; in the distance 
are seen the monks of St. Bernard making their way toward the 
sound. Cooper has some exquisite little battle pictures. Collins 
has nothing this year. The little picture I sent of ' Contempla- 
tion ' is a female figure with a moonlight effect, which I began 
for Juliet, but not thinking when it was finished that it expressed 
her character I gave it another name. 

" Captain Tracy has given us a gleam of hope that we may 
see you in the course of the summer, though only for a short 
time. The months of May, June, and July are, in my opinion, 
worth all the rest of the year in London, and there is every sea- 
son some additional exhibition of pictures open. There will, 
this season, be at least live principal private galleries open. 
Haydon's picture is completed and will be exhibited at Bullock's 
rooms in Piccadilly. The weather, you know, is always delight- 
ful at that time of the year. I am sure, if you can accomplish it. 



164 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

that a visit, if only for the season, to London will do you great 
good, and that you will paint the quicker and better for it. I 
hope I need not say what delight it would be sure to give num- 
bers of your friends besides myself. There is one thing, at all 
events, I think you might do, and that is, if it is quite impossible 
for you to come yourself, at least send us a picture, which I 
should think you might borrow from some of your purchasers 
for the next Exhibition. The voyages are now performed with 
so much certainty that there can be little risk either in your bor- 
rowing or the owner's lending one for that purpose. You are 
now sure of a good situation at the Academy, and I think it will 
facilitate your being made an E>. A. Let it be something strik- 
ing, and the larger the better. I hope you will come and bring 
it with you. If you should be obliged to return again before the 
Exhibition, you may depend on my taking every care of it, or in 
case of my absence, which is not likely to occur, Collins, I am 
sure, will attend to it. 

" Collins, Lonsdale, etc., are all well, and all desire to be re- 
membered to you. Irving has published four numbers of the 
' Sketch-Book,' with every chance of success as soon as it be- 
comes known, which you know cannot happen all at once here. 
There have been two most favorable notices of it, with long ex- 
tracts, in Blackwood's and the New London Magazine. He is 
at present in Birmingham, on a visit to his sister. . . . 

" I think your patience must by this time be pretty well ex- 
hausted by all this chit-chat, which I have run into in the hope 
that you may pick out of it something to interest or amuse. Be 
it as it may, all I ask is ample payment in my own coin, and so 
farewell, my dear sir, till next time, till when, 

" Yours as ever, 

" C. E. Leslie. 

" Mr. Visger is much pleased with your ' Hermia and Helena.' 
It hangs in his drawing-room, Portland Square, Bristol." 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 165 

From Allston to Leslie. 

,k Boston, May 20, 1821. 

" Deae Leslie : So many things must have been done in the 
Art since you last wrote, that I begin to feel not a little impa- 
tient for some account of them ; but as I have so long owed you 
a letter, I have no right to expect one from you till I pay my 
debts ; so I must e'en, lazy as I am, write to you. 

" Of you and Newton I occasionally hear from such of our 
countrymen as have met you in London ; but they seldom give 
any distinct account of what either of you are doing ; of which, 
however, the newspapers sometimes speak, after their manner, 
with more conceit of their own judgment than distinctness in 
their criticism. The last account which I have seen of you in 
the latter was of your ' Gypsy ing Party,' which was almost a 
year back. I am pleased to find that Newton's last picture, ' The 
Importunate Author,' from Moliere, was so generally admired. I 
can have little notion of the picture, it being a branch of art he 
has engaged in since I left London. But from the variety of 
notices, and all favorable, which I have seen of it, I conclude it 
must have been generally liked by the artists, from whom the 
newspaper critics, especially when they agree in praising, always 
take their tone. By the by, have you seen a criticism on Hay- 
don's ' Entrance of our Saviour into Jerusalem,' in an article on the 
' State of the Arts in England,' in a late number of the Edin- 
burgh Review ? The praise it gives, I think just, but cannot 
say the same of all the censure ; one point, however, in the latter 
seems well founded — the want of those subtle niceties and in- 
flections in the outlines which make so great a part of the charm 
in some of the old masters ; it was what I always felt the want of 
in nearly all the pictures of modern date. With respect to the 
rest of the review, it is but little better than a gross libel on 
the English school. The speculations of the writer seem to be 



166 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

those of a man who, in hunting after originality, runs down a 
common thought till it falls to pieces, then putting it again to- 
gether, and by stitching on the head where the tail was, is as- 
tonished to find what an extraordinary animal he has been 
chasing. It is a dangerous thing for a writer to think of his own 
cleverness when he is engaged in the cause of truth ; the interest 
of the cause is too apt to become subordinate to the eclat of the 
pleader's wit. 

" But it is time that I say something of myself. Various cir- 
cumstances have prevented me from recommencing with ' Bel- 
shazzar ' till last September, since which I have, with one inter- 
ruption, been constantly at work on it. On seeing it at a greater 
distance in my present room, I found I had got my point of dis- 
tance too near, and the point of sight too high. It was a sore task 
to change the perspective in so large a picture ; but I had the 
courage to do it, and by lowering the latter and increasing the 
former I find the effect increased a hundredfold. I have spared 
no labor to get everything that came within the laws of perspec- 
tive correct, even the very banisters in the gallery are put in 
by rule. Now it is over I do not regret the toil, for it has 
given me a deeper knowledge of perspective than I ever had be- 
fore, for I could not do that and many other things in the pict- 
ure, which are seen from below, without pretty hard fagging at 
the ' Jesuit.' * I have, besides, made several changes in the com- 
position, which are for the better, such as introducing two enor- 
mous flights of steps, beyond the table, leading up to an inner 
apartment. These steps are supposed to extend wholly across 
the hall, and the first landing-place is crowded with figures, 
which being just discoverable in the dark have a powerful effect 
on the imagination. I suppose them to be principally Jews, ex- 
ulting in the overthrow of the idols and their own restoration, as 
prophesied by Jeremiah, Isaiah, and others, which I think their 
* A standard work on perspective. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 167 

action sufficiently explains. The gallery, too, is also crowded, 
the figures there foreshortened as they would appear seen from 
below. 

" I have written to Collins by this opportunity, and given 
him a list of what I have done since I have been here. Among 
the pictures mentioned I consider ' Jeremiah ' and ' Miriam 
the Prophetess ' the best I have done here ; the last, I think, is 
one of the best I have ever painted, in the back of which is seen 
the shore of the Eed Sea, and on it the wreck of Pharaoh's 
army. . . . 

" I have a piece of news for you — no less than that I am en- 
gaged to be married. The finishing of ' Belshazzar ' is all I wait 
for to be once more a happy husband. 

" Believe me, affectionately your friend, 

" W. Allston." 

From Leslie to Allston. 

"London, August 20, 1821. 

" My Dear Sie : I received your letter of May 20th some 
time ago and ought to have answered it earlier. I was not stand- 
ing on ceremony before I received it, for my friends here would 
witness for me that I have talked of writing to you constantly 
for the last six months. Have at you then, without more words. 

" I had heard, some time before I received your comfirmation 
of it, the report of your intended marriage, and also the lady's 
name, which, by the bye, you do not mention. I am exceed- 
ingly anxious to hear more about her. Why did you not give 
me a description of her in your letter ? From her having such 
a brother as I have often heard you describe Mr. Dana to be, 
and from the husband she is to have, I cannot but infer the lady 
to be very superlative. I hope, however, you will give me a 
particular description of her in your next. 

" I am sure the alterations you have made in your ' Belshaz- 



168 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

zar ' must have improved it. A low point of sight is certainly 
essential to a large picture which must necessarily be hung 
above the eye of the spectator. The reverse is very injurious to 
the effect of Eaphael's cartoons. I wish very much some of 
your late pictures could find their way here. The Academy I 
believe are a little disappointed that you have sent them noth- 
ing since your election. Could not some of those you have sold 
be borrowed for the purpose? There would be scarcely any risk 
in it. You are remembered here with the greatest admiration 
by everybody acquainted with art, and your particular friends 
are all anxious that you should keep such recollections alive. 
For myself I feel every day more and more what I have lost in 
you, and I feed myself with the hope that you will one day re- 
turn to England. I have little prospect at present of going to 
America. 

"You naturally wish to rouse me to do something in the style 
of art you are fondest of, but I believe I must for the present 
be contented with a humbler sphere. My inclinations lead me 
to subjects of familiar life and manners, and what I have done in 
that way has been more successful than anything else. My last 
picture was 'May-Day in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth,' which is 
in some respects an antiquarian picture, as I took pains to adhere 
as closely as possible to the costume and manners of the time. 
It contains more figures than anything I have painted. I have 
sold it for two hundred guineas. I have been lately studying 
the Dutch school a good deal, and find my fondness for those 
admirable matter-of-fact painters increase in proportion to my 
acquaintance with them. 

" The Exhibition this year was considered a very good one, 
though there was nothing of any importance in the historic class, 
excepting Allan's ' Death of Archbishop Sharpe.' This picture, 
like all of his, was full of powerful and natural expression. 
What struck me as its principal fault was a family likeness in 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 169 

some of the heads, as if he had used the same model too fre- 
quently. Wilkie had two small pictures. The one I liked best 
was an interior of a cottage in which was a young man writing a 
letter to his sweetheart, who was coming in unexpectedly behind 
him and blinding his eyes with her hands. He called it ' Guess 
my Name.' The expression was excellent, and the light and 
shadow quite magical, but the color of the flesh was very yellow 
and leathery, a fault he has got into in his late pictures. His 
other picture I did not like so well. It consisted of a group of 
figures, the principal of which was a baker with a roast shoulder 
of mutton on a tray on his head, listening to a young girl who 
was seated on a stile reading a newspaper. It appeared that in 
aiming to get light in the picture he had run into the error that 
Sir George Beaumont complains is so common in the English 
school, of mistaking whiteness for brightness. Mulready had a 
picture of a boy who had been sent on an errand and had stopped 
by the way to play marbles, haying set down a young child and 
a pound of candles in the sun. A servant girl had detected and 
was just about to give him a thrashing. Parts of it were very 
fine, but as a whole I did not like it so well as his last picture. 
Lawrence quite surpassed himself this year. He sent the whole 
length of Mr. West, which he has painted for the New York 
Academy. The head of it I think the finest thing he ever 
painted. Collins had three very fine pictures. One, a beautiful 
thing, of children fishing, with a mountainous background. By 
the bye, he was much delighted at receiving your letter, which I 
suppose he has answered by this time. He is now in the north 
of Devonshire. Newton's picture of ' The Importunate Author ' 
was very successful. The story w T as most happily told, and with 
great delicacy of humor. An author (not a poor threadbare one, 
but a man of fashion, by dress and appearance) had got hold of 
a young nobleman by the arm, and was reading with great ap- 
pearance of self-satisfaction a huge manuscript, while the gallant 



170 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

was secretly looking at his watch as if he had some appointment 
which he was anxious to keep, and yet was too polite to interrupt 
the poet. The dresses were of the time of Louis XIV., and the 
scene on the terrace in an old-fashioned French garden. He 
sold it to Mr. Hope, and has painted a duplicate of it for tile 
Earl of Carlisle, and is to make another copy for Mr. Murray 
the bookseller. Newton has another picture which I think will 
surpass it. It is a quarrel between fashionable lovers. They 
are returning miniatures, presents, etc., while the lady's-maid is 
standing behind the chair of her mistress looking at them. It 
is the same costume as the other, and the effect of color is very 
beautiful. 

"Irving has returned to London and is preparing another 
book for the press. His ' Sketch-Book' has made him one of 
the most popular authors of the day. Coleridge and the Gill- 
mans were very glad to hear that I had got a letter from you, 
they talk about you very much, whenever I see them, which I am 
sorry to say is not very often. Haydon has been exhibiting a 
small picture (for him) of ' Our Saviour in the Garden,' which is 
the worst thing he has painted. He is going on with the ' Eaising 
of Lazarus.' Mr. West's sons have built a magnificent gallery 
in Newman Street, and are exhibiting there the principal large 
pictures of their father. Martin's picture of your subject, ' Bel- 
shazzar,' made more noise among the mass of people than any 
picture that has been exhibited since I have been here. The 
artists, however, and connoisseurs did not like it much. It was 
first exhibited at the Gallery, and drew such crowds that they 
kept it open a fortnight longer than usual solely on account 
of that picture, and the picture was bought for eight hundred 
guineas by a speculator, who immediately opened an exhibition 
of it himself and has made a great deal of money by it. 

"Newton, Irving, Willes, Martin, etc., all desire me to remem- 
ber them affectionately to you when I write. Mrs. Bridgen's 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 171 

family all beg to be remembered, not omitting Betsy, who often 
tells me I am not half as good as Mr. Allston ; indeed she de- 
spairs of ever seeing so nice a man again. 

" Farewell, my dear sir, and may heaven bless and prosper 
you in all your undertakings is the sincere wish of, 

" Yours affectionately, 

" C. K. Leslie." 

From Allston to Leslie. (Extract.) 

" Boston, September 7, 1821. 
" I congratulate you with all my heart on the success of your 
picture ' May-Day.' The story that we have here is that you 
sold it for three hundred guineas, and Mr. Sully, who is now in 
Boston, says it is true. I have seen some account of it in the 
newspapers ; the Examiner, however, is the only English one I 
have met with. I could have wished to have seen a description 
from a more discriminating critic. I shall not forgive you if you 
do not give me the * whole history ' of it. Tell me all that the 
artists have said of it, and others out of the art whose opinion is 
of value. After your exit, let the next who enters for my enter- 
tainment be Collins, and Newton, and Ward's great picture, and 
Martin and Willes — you must have by this time a vast deal to 
tell me about them all. By the bye, I saw an account of Martin's 
* Belshazzar ' in Blackwood's Magazine, which I read with great 
delight, and the more so when it was added to the description 
that he had not only received two hundred guineas premium 
from the British Institution, but sold it afterward for eight hun- 
dred. I suppose he would not paint fans now unless the sticks 
were made of gold. It is very delightful to hear of such success 
of those who really deserve it, and especially when they happen 
to be those whom we also esteem as men. Tell Martin I would 
get up before sunrise and walk twenty miles to see his picture, 
which is saying a great deal for me, who have seen the sun rise 



172 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

about as often as Falstaff saw his knees, and who had almost 
rather stand an hour on my head than walk a mile. 

" As I have given either you or Collins, when I wrote by 
Captain Tracy, a full account of what I have done, I shall not say 
any more on the subject at present, except that I am still hard 
at work on ' Belshazzar,' and shall so continue until it is com- 
plete." 

From Allston to Leslie. 

"Boston, May 8, 1822. 
" Dear Leslie : Accept my thanks for your print of ' Sir 
Roger,' which I think admirable. The principal group is, I 
think, the best ; Sir Eoger's character seems to be exactly hit — 
and the widow and her children are just the kind of objects to call 
forth the good knight's kindness of nature ; next is the old maid, 
then the old man and his daughter — though I do not know 
whether I don't prefer to the former the little old woman a little 
beyond him ; perhaps because she seems more completely than 
the rest to belong to the last century. I am pleased also with 
the landscape, the church and effect, in short, I am delighted 
with the whole. 

" I congratulate you with all my heart upon your election 
into the Academy. As to my becoming an R. A., I fear, as you 
say, that it is hopeless so long as I continue on this side of the 
water, and, though I still hope to revisit England, it is very un- 
certain when. Sometime next year, however, if possible, I will 
paint a picture expressly for Somerset House, as I would not be 
thought unmindful of an institution in which I feel so strong an 
interest. By the bye, I cannot help thinking the law that ex- 
cludes foreigners or artists residing in a foreign country from the 
honor of membership a very narrow one. No other Academy 
has such a law. The art belongs to no country. I hope the day 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 173 

will come when that law will be expunged, for I see not any good 
purpose it can effect. But don't think I feel sore under it, I as- 
sure you I do not. 

" I would give a great deal to see Etty's ' Cleopatra ; ' you and 
Willes have quite made my eyes water with your descriptions of 
its splendor. I remember his former works well. They gener- 
ally struck me as falling short of the mark ; but nevertheless I 
used to think that his mark was a good one ; he appeared to be in 
the right road, though he travelled slowly. Ah, the old masters, 
after all, are the only masters to make a great artist ; I mean an 
original one. For I have rarely seen an artist who neglected them 
that did not imitate his contemporaries, and often, too, while he 
was deluding himself with the thought that he was confining his 
study to nature. When I think thus of the old masters, 'tis only 
of their language, not their thoughts. I would not have the latter 
derived from any source but nature. 

" We have just heard of the arrival of Irving's ' Bracebridge 
Hall.' I promise myself infinite pleasure from it. The public 
here are all agog for it. Irving well deserves all his popularity. 
If I find a subject in it for a picture, I will make a drawing and 
send it to him." 

From Allston to Leslie. (Extract) 

"Boston, July 23, 1822. 
" When I tell you that I am still fagging at ' Belshazzar ' I 
believe I shall have told you all. I hope to finish in three months 
more. That done I must think of painting something to send to 
the Koyal Academy — yet it is not likely that I shall be able to 
finish anything in time for the next Exhibition. 

" Tell Irving that I am delighted with his ' Bracebridge Hall,' 
that is, the first volume, for I have not yet seen the second. Every 



174 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

individual of the family is as well drawn as could be, and I felt 
as if I had been reading of real people. The ' Stout Gentleman ' 
is exquisite. I felt every drop of rain in it and could smell even 
the stable-yard ; but I was sorry he introduced anything like a 
double entendre. I allude to the landlady's visit to the ' Stout 
Gentleman's ' chamber. Perhaps he did not mean anything more 
than a kiss to have been given, but some readers would not be 
satisfied with a kiss. Remember me to him affectionately. I 
liked also the ' Student of Salamanca.' The procession of the in- 
quisitors with their victim to the stake is terrific. Nothing could 
be finer than the description of the prisoners and the effect of the 
whole scene on the multitude ; they meet the eye with a horrible 
breadth." 

From Allston to Leslie. (Extract.) 

" Boston, February 7, 1823. 
" Dear Leslie : I received sometime since a case containing 
Wilkie's ' Blind-Man's-Buff,' ' The Rabbit on the Wall,' and Allan's 
' Circassians,' together with several smaller prints from your de- 
signs from ' Knickerbocker ' and the ' Sketch-Book.' There was 
no note or letter accompanying them, but I concluded that they 
were from you and for Judge Jackson ; so I accordingly delivered 
them to him, all excepting one of the duplicates from my design 
of ' Wouter van T wilier,' which I supposed you intended for me. 

" I was exceedingly pleased with your designs from ' Knicker- 
bocker' and the 'Sketch-Book.' They and 'Sir Roger' show 
what a stride you have made in cliiaro-oscuro and other matters. 
The best, I think, is ' Rip van Winkle ' mounting the hill with 
the ghostly Dutchman. Rip's nether jaw hangs ominously, and 
his dog has a true eye for a ghost. 'Tis equal to the story, which 
is saying a great deal. The next best is ' Ichabod Crane and 
Katrina,' which is exquisite; then the 'Van Corlear's Leave- 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 175 

taking ; ' but they are all good. I was also pleased with the en- 
graving of my ' "Wouter.' The characters are all well preserved, 
but the composition is hurt by the reproduction. Yet that could 
not have been avoided, and it looks better reduced than I thought 
it would. But why did the engraver omit the A. E. A. after my 
name ? If it be not too late, I should like to have it added. 

" I have made so many changes in ' Belshazzar ' that it is yet 
unfinished, but they are all for the better. I do not regret the 
time bestowed on it, especially as I find it at last drawing to a 
close. I hope to complete it by the end of May. Till then I 
shall say nothing about it. Morse, I hear, has just finished a 
picture of Congress Hall, and is daily expected here to exhibit. 
At odd times I have made a number of compositions, but I have 
laid them all aside until I finish 'Bel.' The best among them is 
' Macbeth and Banquo Meeting the Witches on the Heath,' one of 
the happiest, I think ; the next is Minna and Brenda on the sea- 
shore, from the ' Pirate.' 

From Leslie to Allston. 

"London, August 18, 1823. 

"My Dear Sir: I sit down to perform a promise I made 
some months ago of writing you a long letter of all sorts of 
news. . . . 

" I did not get my ' Autolycus ' finished for Somerset House, 
and have laid it entirely aside for some time. I have lately 
been employed entirely on small portraits, alias ' pot-boilers.' 
One of these was posthumous, and from a grandchild of Lord 
Egremont's. I succeeded to his Lordship's satisfaction, for 
when I told him my price was twenty-five guineas, he imme- 
diately wrote me a cheque for fifty. I am to paint him a picture 
from ' Don Quixote ' of Sancho in the apartment of the Duchess, 
in which I shall probably introduce a portrait of one of his lord- 
ship's daughters. 



176 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

" By the bye, I remember your telling me of one of them you 
nearly fell in love with when you were at Petworth, pray which 
was it ? Lord Egremont talks a great deal of you, and I am sure 
he would be very glad to see you here again. Phillips says your 
' Jacob's Dream ' is hung in an excellent light at Petworth and 
looks very grand. The exhibition at Somerset House is consid- 
ered rather below par this year. Wilkie is almost the only artist 
of eminence who is equal to himself. The small, whole-length 
portrait of the Duke of York is one of the finest things he has 
ever painted. The Duke is in a blue military surtout over a red 
coat, sitting at a table reading a despatch. His face is lighted 
by a reflection from the paper. At his back is a window with a 
muslin blind, through which the picture is lighted, and under the 
table at which he sits is an immense black dog. The materials 
(you will perceive) are of the commonest kind; yet disposed 
with so much art and painted with such exquisite truth that it 
is the most interesting picture in the Exhibition. Lawrence is 
inferior to himself this year. He has made Lady Jersey (a very 
unusual thing for him) look like a vulgar trollope. Phillips's 
whole-length of the Duke of York in his coronation robes is 
finely managed, but the head, and indeed the whole portrait, is 
very inferior to Wilkie's. I must go back to Wilkie again, whose 
other picture I had liked to have forgotten. The subject is a 
parish beadle putting some vagrants (an Italian musician, his 
wife and boy, dancing bear, etc.) in the watch-house for having 
a row at a fair. The subject is an unpleasant one, and the cause 
for which the poor creatures (foreigners, too) are locked up, is 
not apparent, so that it becomes an act of sheer oppression on 
the part of the beadle. It is, however, full of beautiful painting. 
The Italian woman's head, and a monkey, are perhaps as perfect 
specimens of imitation as could be produced from the whole 
range of art. The picture, however, generally considered, is too 
powerful in light and shade for an out-of-door scene under any 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 177 

circumstances. Fuseli expressed his surprise to Wilkie to see 
him painting in the 'Caravaggio style/ as he called it. Sir 
George Beaumont, whom you know is a great enemy of the 
white school, is delighted with this picture and the Duke of 
York, and hails them as indications of a reform in art. 

" Howard's ' Solar System ' is a beautifully imagined picture, 
and would delight you, excepting perhaps in color. A figure of 
Apollo forms the focus of light in the centre, and around him 
are revolving personifications of the planets, receiving light, as 
they pass, in small vases. Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and 
Saturn are represented by the deities of those names, and the 
Earth, which is the nearest figure, by a beautiful female in a 
green mantle, with towers on her head. Her waist is gracefully 
encircled by the arm of a smaller female, in white drapery, half 
shaded, with a crescent on her forehead, and receiving light from 
the sun in a silver vase. Jupiter, Saturn, and the Georgium 
Sidus are dimly seen in the darker parts of the circle, surrounded 
by their satellites. The only drawback to this picture is the 
color, which, though not disagreeable, is far from being as poetical 
as the conception. 

" Turner, in all his last pictures, seems to have entirely lost 
sight of the ' modesty of nature.' The coloring of his ' Bay of 
Baiae,' in the present Exhibition, would have been less objection- 
able perhaps in Howard's ' Solar System ; ' but as applied to a real 
scene, although splendid and harmonious, it is nevertheless a lie 
from beginning to end. Some people who have been in Italy 
say it is like the atmosphere there; but if that is the case, 
Claude, Poussin, and Wilson must have been very bad painters. 
Calcott is not so good as usual. Constable's ' Salisbury Cathe- 
dral ' is one of his best pictures. You are much wanted in the 
Exhibition. The number of historical and poetical pictures is 
lamentably small, and of that small number very few are good 

for anything. Haydon is in the King's Bench. It is said he 
12 



178 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

owes ten thousand pounds, and of that a considerable sum is for 
wine. Sir George Beaumont's picture of ' Macbeth,' which hap- 
pened to be lent to Haydon for exhibition, was seized with his 
other pictures, and it is doubtful whether or not Sir George 
will get it without buying it over again. He (Sir G. B.) has 
lately made a present of all his pictures to the Nation as a begin- 
ning of a public gallery, and it is rumored that the Government 
is going to purchase the collection of Mr. Angerstein, who is 
lately dead, to add to it. 

" Sir George and Lady Beaumont often talk of you with great 
regard. He told me he wrote to you some time ago, but is 
afraid you never got the letter, as you did not answer it. I am 
sure it would gratify him very much to hear from you and to 
know what you are doing. Coleridge and the Gillmans are also 
very anxious to hear from you. They were very much delighted 
with Mr. and Mrs. Channing. For my own part I was so per- 
fectly acquainted with Mr. Channing by report, before I saw 
him, that I felt quite like meeting an old acquaintance. The 
little I saw of him so fully answered to all I had heard — 
indeed, he exceeded my expectations (and, as you well know, his 
portrait was drawn for me by a most affectionate hand), that I 
very greatly regretted I had no longer time to profit by and 
enjoy his society. He gave me a sermon of his own, the last 
time I saw him, which I have since read with great admiration. 
Coleridge was speaking very highly of this sermon a few days 
ago, at Sir George's, who regretted that he had not known of Mr. 
Channing's being in London. Irving is still in Germany. New- 
ton is quite well. By the bye, I forgot to mention his picture 
of ' Don Quixote in his Study,' as among the best in Somerset 
House. 

" I am, yours ever, 

"C. E. Leslie." 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 179 

From Allston to Ver planch. 

"Boston, July 2, 1824. 

" My Dear Sir : I need hardly tell you, late as it is, how 
much pleasure you have given me by your 'Discourse.' The 
view you take of the Fine Arts, as connected with the glory and 
improvement of our country, appears to me both just and impor- 
tant, and I cannot but hope that your strictures on our architec- 
ture will have a beneficial effect ; at least they ought to produce 
it, and if read by all future committees whom our good people 
may appoint to overrule the designs of regular architects, they 
may possibly influence some sensible bricklayer or baker amongst 
them, and touch his presumption, to the great saving of his time, 
and the public expense. I do not know a surer way of teaching 
our countrymen wisdom than by showing its economy. If they 
can be made to feel that money is really wasted on such piles as 
they are wont to cumber the ground with, they will perhaps be 
less liberal of their advice; and then we may expect some im- 
provement. The finest speculations on taste in the abstract will 
do little good where so many claim the liberty of having a taste 
of their own. Amongst all our good qualities, and I am patriotic 
enough to think that our countrymen have as great a share of 
them as any people on earth, it must be confessed that modesty 
as to matters where they have no means of information is not a 
very prominent one. About what they do understand they are 
as modest as other folks. But malgre the inconveniences of this 
disposition to assume, a good-natured man, perhaps, may see in 
it only the spray of that spirit of enterprise which has prompted 
them to dash through every known and unknown sea, to the 
fame as well as to the solid advantage of our country. But the 
deviations even of this good spirit must be checked in many 
things before we can become a refined nation. 

"As to the present subject, I think you have applied the 



180 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

most efficient corrective — I mean where you appeal to our vanity ; 
the contempt of foreigners goes farther even than considerations 
of economy. A book abused in England, or a building ridiculed 
by an Englishman, however irritating, does actually open our 
eyes to their defects. If we were proud, such attacks would only 
confirm us in what is bad, but we are a vain people, the most 
malleable of all things ; of course, all the better for hard thumps. 
But we are not all vain, or all ignorant, and there are very 
many, I doubt not, on whom the refined and speculative parts of 
your ' Discourse,' so eloquently set forth, will not be lost. The 
artists ought to thank you for the dignity with which you have 
invested their art ; and I, for one, not only do so for that and for 
your kind, flattering compliment to myself, but for the honorable 
mention of my Sir Joshua ; I call him mine, for I feel as if I had 
a property in his mind ; quoad the painter, he has laid the foun- 
dation of my own, most of my speculations are built on it, and it 
is mine by right of settlement. But I hardly know where I am 
rambling 

"Mr. Dana was much pleased with your kind remembrance 
of him, and would, I dare say, send you a message did he know 
of my writing. If you see Mr. Cooper, pray remember me to 
him. I was delighted with the * Pilot ; ' 'tis a great performance. 

"Believe me, dear sir, with sincerest esteem, yours, 

"W. Allston." 



CHAPTEE XVTL 

LETTEKS BY HENRY GEEENOUGH DESCEEBING THE TECHNICAL SEDE 
OF ALLSTON'S AET. — HIS METHOD OF PAINTING. — HIS PALETTE 
AND THEOEY OF COLOE. — HOW HE OBTAINED LUMLNOUSNESS IN 
FLESH TINTS. — VALUE OF THE OLD MASTEES FOE LNSPIEATION 
AND LNSTEUCTLNG. — ALLSTON'S LETTEE OF LNSTEUCTION FOE 
THOMAS COLE. 

The f ollowing elaborate letter concerning the technical meth- 
ods of Allston's painting, and his views as to the many difficult 
problems of his art, was written by Henry Greenough in answer 
to the request of R. H. Dana, Sr., as a contribution to his pro- 
posed biography of Allston. It is almost a complete hand-book 
of instruction for students of painting, and will be found inter- 
esting, as well, to those who have but a general interest in the 
subject : 

" In the early stages of my acquaintance with Mr. Allston it 
was my good fortune to hear him describe his mode of preparing 
his palette for painting flesh. This led to a conversation on 
color, in the course of which he explained very minutely his 
system of coloring. As it was a subject on which he always 
dwelt with pleasure, and frequently recurred to, I have heard 
him describe his process some five or six times, very nearly in 
the same words ; but as he often went into explanatory remarks 
suggested by questions interrupting him, I will endeavor to give 
the result of these several conversations, using as nearly as pos- 
sible his phraseology, although the exact order of his remarks 
may not be preserved. 



182 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

" ' My present system,' said he, ' is one which I have practised 
for the last fifteen years, and I may say that I am perfectly satis- 
fied with it, because I know it is capable of producing far greater 
results than my lifetime will ever enable me to attain. I some- 
times vary or modify my process according to my subject, but 
my general practice is on the same principle. 

" ' If, for instance, I have a head to paint, I suppose it to 
be first accurately drawn in outline and dead-colored with black, 
white, and Indian red. This dead color I paint solidly, with a 
good body of color, and in a broad manner, that is, with no hard 
lines or attention to detail in form or color. The object of the 
dead color is to give the general effect of light and shade, and 
the masses, which should be made out accurately ; so that in the 
next stage I shall not be obliged to think whether the eyebrows, 
for instance, are to be lowered or raised, but having arranged 
these points, my whole attention shall be given to the coloring 
and modelling of the head. 

" ' For the next painting I prepare my palette thus : At the 
top I put a good lump of white ; next to it some yellow (say yel- 
low ochre, raw sienna, or Naples yellow, according to the com- 
plexion I am to paint). Then red (vermilion is the best, but I 
always put by it some Indian red and lake to strengthen the 
lowest tints if required), lastly, ultramarine blue, and by the 
side of it a little black. My palette, you perceive, now has 
white, black, and the three primitive colors. 

" ' By admixture of white with yellow I form three tints of 
yellow in regular gradation from dark to light, and the same 
with the red and blue. These I call my virgin tints, and they 
form a regular scale of four different tints from the lightest down 
to the crude color. Lastly, I take a little pure yellow, pure red, 
and pure blue, and mix them to a neutral hue, which comes as 
near to olive as any of the tertiaries. This is for the shadows. 
I used formerly to make two olives, one light and one darker, 



WASHINGTON ALLSTOJST 183 

but that is unnecessary; a little Indian red, or vermilion and 
lake, deepened by black, serves to strengthen the shadows, if 
necessary, and comes in play to mark the deep shadow of the 
nostrils, the eyelids, and parting of the lips. 

" 'I now take my canvas, on which I have dead-colored my 
head, and with a large brush, say as big as my thumb, but one 
which will come to a point, I lay in the shadows with olive, not 
thin, but with a good, firm body. With this olive I paint over 
the shaded side of the face ; the shadows at the roots of the hair, 
or where the hair joins the flesh, under the eyebrows, nose, and 
lips. The half-tints which join the shadows, such as the lower 
part of the lighted side of the face, and in general wherever the 
shadow becomes less positive, I go over with olive more lightly. 

" 'I then take another brush, such as I used for the olive (for 
I always keep one brush for the olive and another for the lighter 
tints) and taking on the end of it a little of the lowest of my 
three tints, that is, the lowest tint of yellow and white, red and 
white, and blue and white, I mix them on my palette with my 
brush only, not grinding them together with my knife, but by a 
few turns of my brush, mingling them in a light and delicate 
manner. This broken tint I apply to such parts as join the 
shadows. In the same manner I proceed with the middle tints, 
taking a little of each and gently mingling them I paint over all 
the portions of the face which remain uncovered, with the excep- 
tion of the highest lights. These I paint over with the three 
lightest tints, neutralized in the same manner as the others were. 
My head is now covered, and each of the three colors enters into 
the composition of the whole. In every part there is a blue, 
red, and yellow, as there is in flesh, even in the highest light. 

" ' I should have remarked that although I use each of the 
three colors in every part, I still endeavor to keep the character 
of the flesh. I keep the shadows neutral and the mass of light 
warm, i.e., with a predominance of reds and yellow, rather than 



184 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

blue. This part of the process will occupy me, say half an 
hour. I have now not only the effect of light and shade, but the 
character of flesh, and the parts more accurately made out. It 
only remains to perfect the local colors and model up the detail. 
I find, for instance, that my picture has less red in the cheeks 
than the model has ; I dip my brush into one of the virgin tints 
of red and break it in ; if it is too light I try the next lower, and 
so on. The forehead may not have enough yellow ; I break some 
in until I have corrected the deficiency in general. Wherever 
I find my picture wanting any color (on comparing it with my 
models) I touch in that color. It is really wonderful how any 
color thus broken in will be in perfect harmony, owing to the 
neutrality of the impasto, that is, owing to its being touched 
into a body of color composed of three colors. It seems like 
magic, the effect is so strong and so true to nature. When I say 
that I paint my shadows in flat with olive, you must not suppose 
that I leave them so ; I endeavor to make my shadows as varied 
in color as my lights and half-tints. To be sure, shadows are 
generally neutral in color, but if you look at the shaded side 
of the cheek, for instance, you will perceive red in some parts. 
You should break in red then, either pure vermilion or one of 
the lower tints. In fact I modify the whole of my shadows by 
breaking in pure color — blue, red, or yellow — just as my eyes tell 
me that either of these colors is wanting. 

" ' The only object of the first coat of olive is to lower the 
tone and neutralize the color of the tints which I afterward break 
in. And here I would remark that unless the shadows are 
painted solidly you can never make a brilliantly colored head. 
It is a very common error that the shadows should be painted 
thin in order to get transparency. You may get a certain de- 
gree of transparency by doing so, but then the whole will want 
force. 

" ' Bubens's method of painting flesh, as described in Field's 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 185 

work on color, was faulty in this respect, as also in having streaks 
of separate colors, which always remind me of a prize-fighter, 
who has been bruised black and blue. The fact is, sir, Rubens 
was a liar, a splendid liar, I grant you, and I would rather lie 
like Eubens than to tell the truth in the poor, tame manner in 
which some painters do. His pictures are like the sophistical 
reasonings of a liar, to whom you have only to grant his premises 
and he will thereon erect a gorgeous fabric, but deny these pre- 
mises and it all falls to the ground. There is a traditionary say- 
ing of Eubens that white is the poison of shadow in painting. 
This is nearer the truth in glazing than in the impasto or body- 
color painting. The impaslo cannot be true to nature without 
the tints are modified by admixture of white. I often touch 
into my last glazing even with pure color. In this case it be- 
comes necessary to use tints very low in tone, sometimes even 
the crude vermilion, ochre, or blue. Sir William Beechey once 
remarked to Gainsborough that he had that day made a great 
discovery. "It is one," said he, "which I find enables me to 
produce great effects, and in your hands would, I think, work 
wonders." "What is it?" asked Gainsborough. " Painting into 
glazing, sir," said Sir William. " That is no news to me," said 
Gainsborough ; " but I thought I was the only man in England 
who knew the secret." 

" ' This is a digression, however. I was speaking before of 
painting in body colors. It is very important in covering the 
head, as I have already said, when you mix the three tints to do 
it lightly with your brush only. The modern Italians mix their 
pearl tints with the palette-knife, which is death to all brilliancy 
of color. It makes mud of the tints at once. They no longer 
sparkle to the eye, but become flat as stale beer. By mingling 
them lightly with the brush, you make a neutral tint of ten 
times the force of one ground up with the knife, and if you were 
to take a magnifying-glass and examine the tint you would find 



186 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

small particles of pure color which give great brilliancy. You 
must have observed the difference in lustre between silks woven 
from different-colored threads and those dyed with a compound 
hue. A purple silk woven of two sets of threads, one blue and 
the other red, cannot be matched by any plain silk-dyed purple. 
The first has a luminous appearance like the human complexion. 
This luminousness is the grand characteristic of flesh. It is 
what Titian calls the "luce di dentro," or internal light. When I 
first heard that expression of Titian's it opened to me a world of 
light. It is common with painters to talk of the transparency of 
flesh ; it is not transparent but luminous. When I was in Paris, 
a student, Hazlitt (author of " Conversations with Northcote "), 
was there painting a copy from Titian. We were examining the 
texture of the color, and he remarked upon the singularly 
varied character of the tints. " It looks," said he, " as if Titian 
had twiddled his colors." I don't know whether this expression 
strikes you as it did me. To me it is very expressive, and first 
gave me the idea of catching up each of the three colors and 
merely twiddling them together instead of grinding them with 
the knife. 

" ' I always endeavor to finish my impasto in one day. With 
ordinary diligence and success this may be easily done.' A 
friend who was present here expressed great surprise at the idea 
of a head being painted in one day, so as to be ready for glazing 
the next ; meaning, of course, a highly studied head and not a 
mere sketch. Mr. Allston replied : ' Oh, yes, even a portrait 
(supposing it to have been already drawn and dead-colored pre- 
viously) might be painted in one day, that is, the face alone, the 
hair could be painted separately as well as the dress, back- 
ground, and accessories. At all events, if I were a portrait- 
painter I would make the experiment. I would devote great at- 
tention to making a careful and correct outline and dead-color, 
but afterward, instead of taking several short sittings, I would 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 187 

complete the impasto in one long sitting, and glaze afterward. 
If on a review of my work I find any part incorrect, or which 
does not satisfy me, I go over the shadows and the half-tints, in 
such parts as I wish to repaint, with a thin glaze of olive, very 
slightly, and touch into it. There is no difficulty in matching 
the lights, but it is very difficult to paint over your shadows and 
half-tints, unless you prepare an olive glazing to touch into. 

" ' When my head is ready for glazing I give it a general 
glazing a day or two previous to finishing it. I mix asphaltum, 
Indian red, and ultramarine to a neutral tint, and with this I 
just tinge some megilp — the least in the world — just enough to 
discolor my megilp a little ; this serves to lower the tone of my 
picture a mere shade and give harmony to the colors. I add to 
the megilp some japan gold size, which serves to make it dry 
firm and enables me to work it over the next day, wiping out or 
painting over as I please. "When this is dry I prepare some me- 
gilp with asphaltum, Indian red, and blue of a deeper tint, as 
before, only I put little or no japan in, as I wish to prevent its 
drying too soon. The neutral tint mixed as I have described is 
what I call " Titian's dirt." With this I go over the face, strong 
in the shadows and lighter in the half-tints ; with a dry brush or 
rag I wipe off the glazing or weaken it as I wish, and in this way 
model up the general form and detail. This part of the process 
is very much like water-color painting, only that water colors dry 
several times during the process, but here the paint is left moist. 
If any part seems weak in color I paint in pure color, either red, 
blue, or yellow, as the case may be. 

" ' The effect of glazing is to deepen the tone. You may 
paint a bit of canvas over with a solid body of ivory black, which 
one would suppose is as black as paint can represent, but let it 
dry and then by repeated glazings of asphaltum and Prussian 
blue over a portion of it, you will deepen the tone as much as to 
make your first coat of black look like slate-color by the side of 



1SS 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 



it. The variety of hues producible by glazing is infinite, and 
yet the modern Italians, and, in my time, the French, were 
utterly ignorant of it. When I was in Eome a German professor 
of painting asked me what colors I used. My colors, he said, 
looked like what the old masters used. I told him that I used 
the ordinary colors, sold by the color-men there, but that the 
effects he spoke of were produced by vellatura (glazing). Hap- 
pening to have by me an old palette on which some colors had 
become dry, I took some megilp, asphaltum, and lake, and passed 
over some dry vermilion and showed him how much it deep- 
ened the tone ; then with asphaltum and blue I glazed over some 
yellow and produced a beautiful green, and so with several other 
colors, which seemed to astonish him like a trick in jugglery. 
" Alia ! " said he, " I have often heard of vellatura, but never 
knew what it meant before." I don't relate this anecdote as re- 
dounding to my credit at all, as I did not invent the system, but 
brought it with me from England. 

" ' The French, I am told, have already greatly improved in 
color of late years. When I was in Paris they knew nothing of 
glazing. I was making a study from a picture of Rubens, one 
of the Luxembourg collection, and was preparing my picture as 
I supposed the original to have been prepared, that is, instead 
of painting up my effect at once, I had painted certain portions 
different in actual color, to be modified afterward by glazing. I 
was somewhat annoyed in the course of my work by observing 
that the French artists were deriving great amusement from my 
picture at my expense. They frequently watched my progress 
and tittered together in groups. Some of them went to Yander- 
lyn (who was then in Paris) and told him there was a country- 
man of his in the gallery whom they pitied very much ; I was in 
a sad mess, they said, and evidently didn't know what I would 
be at. 

" 'It happened, however, that one morning when I had com- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 189 

menced my preparation for glazing, and had commenced glazing 
a part of my picture, a Roman cardinal and his suite was pass- 
ing through the gallery. You are aware that among the Italian 
clergy are many men who, having great learning and taste, 
devote much of their attention to the study of the fine arts, and 
become, in fact, much better judges of art than the present ar- 
tists ; not studying the art professionally, they do not, like the 
artists, become blinded by prejudices in favor of this or that sys- 
tem, but judge by the effects. As this cardinal was passing by 
me he stopped and examined my work with evident interest. 
He asked me of what country I was, where I had studied, etc., 
and ended with a compliment. " Monsieur," said he, " vous vous 
entendez ; je vous en fais mes compliments." (" I see, sir, you 
understand what you are about ; accept my congratulations.") I 
don't hesitate to repeat this compliment, because I considered it 
as paid to the English school of color, where I had learned this 
process, and when some of the Frenchmen afterward made me 
the amende honorable for their previous rudeness, I disclaimed 
the merit of the compliment for the same reasons ? 

" Mr. Allston one evening commenced a conversation on the 
subject of backgrounds, by remarking that he had been exceed- 
ingly amused that day by an anecdote of a young painter, who, 
understanding literally Sir Joshua Reynolds's precept, that the 
painter should on the background disperse all the treasures of 
his palette, actually compounded with his palette-knife all the 
odd tints which happened to remain on his palette, and having 
plastered on this muddy compound, really fancied that it gave a 
harmony to his picture ! ' All that Sir Joshua meant,' said he, 
* was that the colors of the head or figure should be somewhere 
repeated, otherwise it would be a spot in the picture. Sir 
Joshua was the last man to grind his colors together. A back- 
ground should be painted, however, with a solid body, whether 
in a portrait or landscape. If the background of a portrait, for 



190 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

instance, instead of being painted solidly, be washed or glazed 
up strongly, it will come forward too much, and the head will 
appear embedded into it ; a thin pellicle of glazing, just enough 
to give harmony, is sufficient. I had an opportunity of testing 
the truth of what I say on a large scale. I was painting my 
large picture of the " Angel Delivering St. Peter from Prison." 
My figures were all drawn and dead colored ; I had made out the 
lines of the architecture and washed in the background with 
umber ; this gave me my effect of light and shade, and served to 
prevent any uncovered canvas from disturbing my eye while 
painting my figures. I then finished my figures, and Mr. Leslie 
happening to see the picture in that stage, I remarked to him, 
that, according to Mr. West's theory, I ought not to touch my 
background again. Mr. West had at that time a theory (which 
I think he must have adopted late in life, as his early practice 
does not savor of it at all), that " if you once lose the ground of 
your canvas in the background, it is not ivithin the reach of art to 
supply the loss." " Now," said I to Leslie, " I think I can prove 
to you that this is an error ; I will paint over this background a 
new one which will make it as flimsy as a gauze veil." Accord- 
ingly I prepared my palette with a variety of tints mixed with 
white, and painted over a small portion, say about half a yard. 
I then retired a short distance to observe the effect. To my 
great dismay, I found it looked weak and chalky to the last de- 
gree. I had used, as I thought, very strong color, and yet, by 
the side of the glazed portions even vermilion and white looked 
like slate color. A new thought struck me. I became con- 
vinced that my principle was right, but my palette was in this 
case wrong. I swept it clean of the tints I had prepared ; I took 
off a pint of paint, and then took a bladder of pure yellow ochre 
and emptied it upon my palette ; for my red I ground two whole 
papers of pure vermilion, and so with all the colors I wanted, 
with the exception of ultramarine ; to give body to that I added 



The Stoning of St. Stephen. 

From the original sketch in the possession of Jared B. Flagg, of New York. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 191 

a little white ; this was the only color I used with any white. I 
then went to work again, and with these pure colors — blue, red, 
and yellow — I painted away fearlessly and found the result just 
as I had anticipated. I found that with this strong color I could 
match my glazed background perfectly; it was already made 
out, in lines, form, and chiaro-oscuro, and all I had to do was to 
match as I went on. The prison-walls were illuminated by a 
supernatural light, and the focus of it was on the walls behind 
the angel. I there used almost pure yellow ochre, and in order 
to make the lights upon the nailheads of the door, I was obliged 
to use pure Naples yellow and vermilion. When I had done 
about half of it, I compared the two portions, the old with the 
new; why, sir, the stones of the wall in the glazed portion looked 
as if you could blow them down with your breath. I completed 
the whole of the background in that day, and never had occasion 
to retouch it, except to give it one general wash of thin as- 
phaltum glazing. Sir George Beaumont, in a letter to me, 
speaking of the background of the picture, said, "the back- 
ground is perfect," and / think I may say to you that it was as 
perfect as anything I ever painted or ever shall paint.' 

" This last remark was made in so modest a manner that I 
felt that the enthusiasm of his manner was all for the art, and 
that there was no personal feeling in it. It was like the enthusi- 
asm of a chemist in describing a beautiful result of some darling 
experiment. Mr. Allston then paused a moment and added, ' It 
was a happy accident, sir.' As if desirous of disclaiming all 
glory for himself 

" Subsequent to the conversation in which Mr. Allston ex- 
plained his mode of painting flesh, he observed that to a certain 
degree he practised the same system in painting other sub- 
stances. ' I paint even my pebbles and rocks on this system, 
always putting in the high lights with three colors. Any pict- 
ure in which the high lights are so painted, with the local color 



192 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

true to nature, and the reflexes appropriate to the subject, must 
be pleasing to the eye ; whether the composition of colors will 
be harmonious is another affair. Field's work on the " Harmony 
of Colors " is a very scientific and profound book, but I have 
lately seen a little unpretending book, called " Hay's Harmony 
of Coloring for Interior Decorations " [since Allston's death it 
has been favorably reviewed in the Edinburgli], which exhibits 
many important truths in so plain and practical a shape as to 
make it a most useful work to any artist. 

" * I remember receiving a visit from Field when I was in 
London, and his remarking upon my picture of "The Sisters" 
[now owned by Mr. Alexander] that it was painted exactly in 
accordance with his theory of color. I was not then aware that 
he was preparing a work on the subject, or I should have liked 
to compare notes with him. I have a rule for composing which 
sometimes is of use, and it is, I think, less complicated than his ; 
as near as I can explain, it is this : I have, for instance, a figure 
draped with a compound hue, say a drab ; to paint drapery for 
the next figure I should choose a drab also, but make the pre- 
dominant color a different one. If the first figure was draped 
with a yellowish drab I would take a reddish drab for the next, 
and then a bluish drab, by which means I obtain harmony and 
melody together. White drapery I paint precisely as I paint 
flesh, that is, with three tints — blue, red, and yellow — on a very 
light key of course, and touching pure white into the lightest 
parts. I have a different process for painting such portions as 
are represented in large masses all in the light. In such cases 
in nature the mass of light strikes the eye as all white, and yet 
on inspection the eye detects often a great variety of tints. To 
produce this effect I model up my drapery with umber and 
white, making out the folds and different planes by weakening 
or strengthening the tints with umber. When this is dry I go 
over it with pure white, thinly, loading the lights alone with a 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 193 

heavier body of paint. At the proper distance the under shades 
will show through and diversify the surface, and yet it will ap- 
pear to be all white. This is characteristic of Titian's white, 
and generally puzzles the copyists to imitate it. If any por- 
tions require deeper shadows than can be given in this way, I 
then touch them into the white with my three tints, of a tone 
sufficiently low to produce the desired effect.' 

" It becomes a question of considerable interest how far the 
principle of the last described process was applied by Mr. All- 
ston in his landscapes and other pictures. It would seem to be 
the key to many of those mysterious effects in which he is un- 
surpassed by any artist with the exception of Titian — those 
effects in which he combines breadth of style with the most 
scrupulous attention to detail. In his picture of ' The Trouba- 
dour' [now owned by Mr. John Bryant, Jr.], for instance, every 
one must be struck with the relief and true modelling of the 
limbs of the figure, and yet upon close examination they appear 
painted with a color so uniform that it seems a mystery how 
such relief can be given by so little variety of tint, were they 
not first painted with strong variety of light and shade, and then 
painted over with a tint nearly uniform, through which the 
under shadows show and give the necessary variety. In the 
background of the same picture there is another instance of the 
same effect in color as well as chiaro-oscuro. The marble boy 
holding a vase on the garden wall is relieved, not only by light 
and shade, but by opposition of the colors of the sky ; and yet 
on inspection it is difficult to select a variety, either of tint or 
hue, sufficient to produce the effect which we see at a distance. 
One thing is clear, that Mr. Allston did not always trust to mere 
body-painting and glazing for his effects, as will appear by his 
own description of another effect. 

" He was one evening describing different effects in painting, 

when I remarked that I had been always struck by the lumi- 
13 



194 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

nousness of his skies and truth of tone and color of his moun- 
tains ; that in his mountains he produced an effect which I did 
not remember to have seen given by any other painter. 'A 
mountain at a great distance,' said I, 'sometimes is so deep- 
toned and intense in its color that any tint of blue which will 
match it seems to be so strong as to bring it directly into the 
foreground, and yet, sir, you contrive to give the deep tone and 
keep your mountains at any distance you please. Besides this, 
you give a certain mellowness of tone which I can only describe 
by saying that your mountains look as if one could with a spoon 
help himself easily to a plateful. This idea struck me in your 
Alpine scenery, but more particularly in the " Spanish Girl," now 
owned by Mr. Clark.' 

" Mr. Allston replied, ' I am glad you liked that picture, for 
I thought I had been happy in that very effect, and I will tell 
you how I painted it. I first conceived the process when study- 
ing Mount Pilot, in Switzerland. I painted the mountain with 
strong tints of pure ultramarine and white of different tints, but 
all blue. Then to mitigate the fierceness of the blue I went 
over it, when dry, with black and white, and afterward with In- 
dian red and white, not painting out each coat by the succeed- 
ing one, nor yet scumbling, but going over it in parts as seemed 
necessary. You know that if you paint over a red ground with 
a pretty solid impasto you get a very different effect of color 
from one painted on a blue or yellow ground. "Whatever be the 
color of the ground it will show through and have its effect on 
the eye, unless with malice prepense you entirely bury it with 
opaque color. In this way I went over that mountain, I sup- 
pose, at least twenty times, and that is the secret of the diapha- 
nous effect which you mention. 

" ' If I wish to paint a clear blue sky, of a warm and brilliant 
tone, I dead-color it with orange, grading my tints from deep 
orange at the top down to light yellow on the horizon, just as if 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 195 

I were going to paint an orange sky instead of a blue one. 
When this is dry, I then paint a sky over it of pure blue and 
white, grading my tints from dark to light as before, the orange 
underneath modifies the blue just enough to prevent its looking 
cold. I finally give it a slight glazing of umber, asphaltum, or 
any neutral color, which not only gives harmony and atmosphere, 
but takes away the appearance of paint. 

" ' The process by which I paint foliage was the result of ac- 
cident. I was painting a landscape in which a large tree was the 
most prominent feature. When I had given it the finishing 
touches, I found that the tree was flat and opaque ; the air did 
not circulate through the leaves and branches. It was a case in 
which I must " either make a spoon or spoil a horn," for the pict- 
ure was good for nothing unless I could remedy this defect, and 
I resolved on a bold experiment. I took pure yellow ochre and 
dotted leaves all over it wherever I wished the branches to 
come forward. This gave my tree the appearance of having had 
a shower of yellow ochre from a dredging-box. When it was 
dry I gave it a thin glaze of megilp and gold-size, just tinged 
with asphaltum, and found to my surprise that these last touches 
were, by the glazing, so assimilated to the former painting that 
no one could have discovered that they were not painted at one 
and the same time. I afterward took asphaltum and blue and 
varied the light and shade of the masses by glazing. I found 
that by the thinnest possible glaze over any portion I could 
throw it back and in the deepest shadows ; I found that a deeper 
tint of asphaltum and blue gave just the effect of deep shade — 
it was just like painting with dark air ! The result was that my 
tree was now better than any I had previously painted, and from 
that time I reduced the process to a regular system in painting 
my trees, and even my plants, in the foreground. I paint in the 
forms of my plants with yellow ochre, Naples yellow, and ultra- 
marine, and then glaze and touch into my glaze. This gives 



196 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

form, light, and shade, and the color of plants ; everything but 
texture ; to give this, I finally give them a thin glaze of yellow 
ochre, which adds the texture also. 

" • For glazing foliage and such parts of my picture as I wish 
to glaze over several times in the same day, I employ a vehicle 
which I much prefer to megilp, and which would seem to be 
very nearly the same thing as is said to have been used by Cor- 
reggio. I mix spirits of turpentine and Japan gold-size in a 
wine-glass, say half and half, or one-third gold-size and two- 
thirds spirits of turpentine. This furnishes a very delicate and 
ethereal medium for my glazing colors, and dries very soon, en- 
abling me to go over my picture a great many times without 
clogging my canvas with oils and resins. 

" c Speaking of vehicles and mediums for color, reminds me 
of an experiment I tried in my picture of " Elijah in the Des- 
ert." My colors were prepared in dry powders, and my vehicle 
was skim-milk ; with this I moistened my powdered colors and 
mixed them of the same consistency as oil colors. My canvas 
had an absorbent ground, and my colors dried nearly as fast as I 
could paint. When I had completed my impasto, I gave it a 
coat of copal varnish, and while it was fresh touched into it with 
transparent oil colors, and afterward glazed it in my usual man- 
ner. The picture was finished in an inconceivably short time 
(although I put into it as much study as in any other), owing to 
there being no delay from complicated processes. And it was 
the most brilliant for tone and color I ever painted. Although 
the experiment succeeded so well in London, where the milk is 
so bad that it goes by the name of " sky-blue," I have never felt 
at liberty to try it again, since my return to America. I am con- 
fident, however, that great results might be brought about by it.' 

" I was one evening present at a conversation between Mr. 
Allston and a young artist, in the course of which he made sev- 
eral remarks which strike me as worthy of preservation in con- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 197 

nection with his art. After some compliments and an assurance 
(which must have been in the highest degree encouraging, com- 
ing from such a source) that he was in the right road, Mr. All- 
ston continued : ' I have frequently been told by friends of 
yours, sir, that they were afraid you were running after the old 
masters. Now if that frightens them, I would make every hair 
on their heads stand on end f for you may depend upon it that 
you cannot go to better instructors for your art. From them 
you will learn the language of your art, and (will learn) to see 
nature as they saw it. You will understand, of course, that I am 
not recommending you to imitate, but to study, them. By 
studying their works you will imbibe their spirit insensibly; 
otherwise you will as insensibly fall into the manner of your 
contemporaries. The old masters are our masters, and there is 
hardly an excellence in our art which they have not individu- 
ally developed. With regard to preparatory studies, I should 
warmly recommend your devoting a portion of every day to 
drawing ; for this reason, that if an artist does not acquire a cor- 
rect design while young, he never will. Sir Joshua Keynolds 
always felt conscious that his powers were very much limited 
and his works incorrect for want of the early habit of drawing. 
A painter may be blest with every gift of nature, but unless he 
has acquired the art of design he can never express himself. If 
you would not be tormented by a consciousness of having noble 
and beautiful conceptions to which you cannot give birth, you 
must give much of your time to drawing. For this purpose I 
should recommend a course of study somewhat different from 
tvhat is generally pursued. I would devote my attention prin- 
cipally to outline. It is perhaps well enough to learn how to 
make a finished drawing, but when you have once done that, 
your time had better be spent in making drawings of the figure 
in highly studied outline only. My own practice is to make a 
finished outline always before touching the brush to canvas. I 



198 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

draw the outlines of such figures as I intend to drape, making 
out the figure as nicely as if it were to be painted naked. I take 
a large, rough piece of common chalk, which makes a broad mark, 
and then with my finger or a bit of bread I can rub out a por- 
tion and thus get a little more or little less much better than by 
using a fine point. "When I have arranged the contour of my 
figure or head I trace the final outline with umber. I would 
recommend your studying your outline as highly as if it were 
not to be disturbed, but when you paint use your brush as freely 
as if you had no outline to go by. This is the only way to avoid 
the hardness of effect which is apt to arise from a close study of 
the outline. I frequently paint my figures over the outline and 
let my background encroach upon the contour of the figure again 
several times in the course of the painting. 

" ' The process of shading with chalks or pencils is, more 
strictly speaking, painting, but it is painting with the very worst 
of materials. I know of no better exercise in drawing than the 
study of Flaxman's " Illustrations ; " and I would make it a rule to 
copy two or three figures from them every day. This, of course, 
I recommend as an initiatory study. After you have acquired a 
readiness of giving the air and spirit of the figure, preserving the 
proportions, you will then have recourse to nature and the an- 
tique with great advantage. The drawings of the old masters, 
which are now preserved with so much care, are almost all studies 
in outline and pen sketches. I cannot see how the modem devi- 
ation from this practise can be attended with any good. I would 
adopt for my motto that of Tintoret, " The design of Michael 
Angelo, with the coloring of Titian." But I would modify it by 
substituting the design of Raphael for Michael Angelo's, for 
Michael Angelo's style of drawing was mannered, peculiar to his 
individual nature and intellect, while Raphael's was truer to nat- 
ure and more suitable to form a school of drawing. 

" ' Be industrious and trust to your own genius ; listen to the 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 199 

voice within you, and sooner or later she will make herself under- 
stood, not only to you, but she will enable you to translate her 
language to the world, and this it is which forms the only real 
merit of any work of art An artist must give the impress of his 
own mind to his works or they will never interest, however acad- 
emically correct they may be. If you work in this spirit you 
will often find yourself working for months and months without 
effecting your purpose, and at last some accident or chance 
touch will produce an effect which something within you will 
immediately recognize as true.' 

" Mr. Allston here read the following sonnet, in which he 
embodied the above ideas. It forms one of the highest speci- 
mens of poetry connected with art : 

Sonnet on Art. 

O Art, high gift of Heaven ! how oft defamed 
When seeming praised ! To most a craft that fits, 
By dead prescriptive rale, the scattered bits 
Of gathered knowledge ; even so misnamed 
By some who would invoke thee ; but not so 
By him — the noble Tuscan * — who gave birth 
To forms unseen of man, unknown to earth, 
Now living habitants ; he felt the glow 
Of thy revealing touch, that brought to view 
The invisible Idea ; and he knew, 
E'en by its inward sense, its form was true ; 
'Twas life to life responding — highest truth ! 
So through Elisha's faith the Hebrew youth 
Beheld the thin, blue air to fiery chariots grow. 

[This sonnet, I think, adds great force and meaning to the 
above remarks.] 

" ' I sometimes think that to an artist great riches would be- 

* Michael Angelo. 



200 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

come valueless ; he would have no occasion for them. For my- 
self I can truly say that I have no pleasures out of my art. Of 
late years my health has obliged me often to relax my efforts, 
and I sometimes accept invitations to dinners, or social meet- 
ings with my friends, to divert my mind, but I generally submit 
to it as if a tooth were to be drawn. I often wish I could live a 
thousand years to enable me to execute all my designs, for it 
seems [and here he laughed very merrily at his own enthusiasm] 
as if time is only valuable to be employed in painting and all 
objects only useful as they are good to be painted.' 

"I remember a few remarks of Mr. Allston's made upon 
different pigments, which, although not generally interesting, 
might perhaps be worthy of being preserved in a note. Speak- 
ing of white-lead, he lamented bitterly that the manufacturers, in 
endeavoring to obtain great purity of white had ruined the body 
of this most useful pigment. * I very much prefer white-lead to 
Cremlitz white or silver white. I do not care so much about the 
extreme whiteness as the opacity. Nowadays they have almost 
entirely purged all body from it to make it pure. It looks beauti- 
fully white, but you might almost as well paint with snow ! Brill- 
iancy of color depends more upon the opacity of the lights than 
the transparency of shadows, because the proportion of shadow to 
light is but small. It was a false idea of Rubens, that white is the 
poisoner of shadow, and that saying of his has, I fear, led many 
astray. I introduce white always into my shadows, for, although 
I prepare my shadows first by laying them in with olive, I 
always break in tints compounded with white. Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds did not like vermilion, but he was obliged to come to it at 
last, and those pictures which he painted with vermilion are the 
only ones which have stood the test of time. I contrive to give 
my vermilion the spunk of lake by touching in blue (ultramarine) 
even in the red of the cheeks ; not by painting with it so as to 
leave it apparent, not by mixing it with the red, but with a deli- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 201 

cate touch, as it were, fusing them together. Whenever I use 
lake I add a very little vermilion to give it body. 

" f Baw sienna and burnt sienna are very powerful colors, but 
require to be used with great care ; they are such stainers — so 
little produces such strong effects. There is nothing like raw 
sienna for painting the lights of gold, when mixed with white. 
Naples yellow makes brass, but not gold. I painted my vase of 
gold in " Belshazzar " in this way ; for the reflexes I was obliged 
to mix Indian yellow and vermilion to avoid the use of red-lead, 
which changes color with time. Prussian blue is a most useful 
color for glazing. With Prussian blue and asphaltum you may, 
by repeated glazings, get any depth of tone you wish. If desir- 
able, you can get a warm tone from them by adding good madder 
lake. If Prussian blue did not change in hue it would be the 
best color for skies ; it is nearer to sky-color, when fresh, than 
ultramarine, but changes directly. But of all colors the most 
unexceptionable is ultramarine. I remember reading of Yan 
Dyck's having received a present from some prince of twenty 
pounds of it ! I think that for that moment I envied Yan Dyck 
more than if I had heard of his receiving as many thousand 
pounds sterling.' 

It is difficult to speak of the character or works of Mr. All- 
ston without seeming to run to excess in eulogium and superla- 
tive praise. I leave to an abler hand the pleasing task of tracing 
the perfection of his intellectual and religious nature and content 
myself with giving my humble testimony in favor of the grace- 
ful dignity . the refined elegance, and benignant urbanity of his 
manners. In this respect he was the perfect model of a gentle- 
man. Etiquette of the most approved mode, and conforming to 
the strictest rules of conventionalisms at upon him like an easy, 
familiar garment ; while it fitted him to mingle with the noble 
and refined, it was never felt to be oppressive by those of the 
most simple and homely breeding. Envy, malice, and detraction 



202 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

alone felt rebuked by his presence. It was impossible to con- 
verse with him without being made to feel that his mind, by 
nature benevolent in the highest degree, had been, by religious 
culture, so chastened and purified as to elevate him beyond the 
influence of petty passion and weaknesses. He seemed, like a 
superior being, to sit in sunshine above the clouds and storms 
which, alas ! but too often overshadow the children of this world. 

" As an artist it is not easy to compare him with those who 
have enjoyed the same degree of reputation. Combining as he 
did the excellences of all the old masters he still kept free from 
their individual defects. He seems early to have adopted Tin- 
toret's idea of forming a perfect school of art, and has certainly 
succeeded better than any painter since the time of Raphael in 
analyzing the processes of the old masters and making them sub- 
servient to the embodiment of his own conceptions. He was a 
thorough proficient in every branch of art ; not only drawing his 
figures with the most academical correctness, but even modelling 
his forms with great mastery in order that beauty of form and 
delicacy of organization, the highest excellence of sculpture, 
might in his works be superadded to painting. 

" Of his proficiency in the sister art, sculpture, I remember 
several specimens, in particular a clay model for the head of the 
Prophet Jeremiah, of the size of life, and a colossal foot which 
he had occasion to introduce in one of his large pictures. The 
last, from its masterly style and exquisitely idealized form, might 
well be mistaken for a cast from the antique. 

" In speaking of his contemporaries he was most liberal of 
praise, awarding to each the highest degree of merit to which he 
considered him entitled. If he had occasion to speak of defects, 
it was evident that he did so from a regard to truth, and that 
it gave him no pleasure to dwell upon them. He had a fa- 
miliar maxim, which seems to have been his guide in speaking 
of works of art, that it is an easy matter to find fault, but to 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 203 

praise judiciously requires au intimate and extended knowledge 
of art. 

" The old masters were to him the patriarchs of the painter's 
religion, of whom he always spoke with reverence, and to whom 
he looked for lessons in the practice of his art. Had he ever 
spoken slightingly of them or let drop one word from which we 
could infer that he would detract from their reputation, we 
might hesitate to assign him a place among them ; if it be true, 
as has been asserted, that Michael Angelo ever spoke disparag- 
ingly of the Greeks, it must raise a doubt whether an incapacity 
to appreciate them must not rank him their inferior. But if 
genuine unaffected modesty is a sure proof of real merit, the 
name of Allston must one day take a high rank, even among the 
Old Masters." 

The following letter was written by Allston to H. Pickering, 
as a memorandum of general and specific counsel for the painter 
Thomas Cole, then a young artist on the eve of departing for 
study in Europe : 

11 Boston, November 23, 1827. 

" My Dear Sir : To be of service to young artists of merit has 
at all times been to me a pleasant duty ; I need hardly say, then, 
that in serving any friend of yours I shall find real pleasure. 
Therefore I most cordially comply with your request. As the 
limits of a letter, however, will not allow me to offer more than a 
few general hints, I beg that what I have to say may be consid- 
ered merely as such, and that some allowance may be made for 
the want of connection. The narrowness of my limits must be 
my apology for abrupt transitions. 

" As you have not mentioned for what part of Europe your 
friend intended to embark, I suppose you have left it to me to 
advise on this point. If so, I want to recommend his going first 
to England, where I would have him remain at least half the 



204 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

time lie proposes to remain abroad. The present English school 
comprises a great body of excellent artists, and many eminent in 
every branch. At the head of your friend's department he will 
find Turner, who, take him all in all, has no superior of any age. 
Turner's ' Liber Studiorum ' would be a most useful work for 
him to possess. I venture to say this without having seen it, 
but coming from him I know what it must be. There are many 
other admirable landscape painters whom I could also name, but 
your friend will hear of them before he has been long in London. 
I advise this disproportionate stay in England because I think it 
important that the first bias he receives should be a good one, 
inasmuch as on this not a little of the future tone of his mind 
will depend. This bias (in art as well as manners) is taken from 
the living, whether we choose it or not ; and to impart a true 
and refined one, together with sound, practical principles, I 
know no modern school of landscape equally capable with the 
English ; in my judgment it has no living rival ; many of them 
having attained to high excellence, and all knowing, even those 
who cannot reach it, in what it consists. On quitting England 
a short time may be spent in France, two or three months in 
Switzerland, and the remainder of the time in Italy. It is hardly 
necessary to lay out any plan for your friend when he visits these 
countries, as he will be enabled to form one more suited to his 
peculiar wants by the advice of artists recently returned from 
the Continent, whom he will meet in London. 

" You say that your friend is a passionate admirer of nature. 
Let him never lose his love for her. This may perhaps seem 
to him impossible. But there are artists, as well as connois- 
seurs, who, as Sir Joshua Reynolds says, ' have quitted nature 
without acquiring art.' To avoid this the young artist should 
study nature and pictures together ; he will find they mutually 
reflect light upon each other. By studying the works of other 
men we are in effect appropriating to ourselves their experience ; 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 205 

in this way we may be said to multiply our eyes and to see a 
thousand things that might otherwise elude us ; in studying nat- 
ure Ave are enabled to separate, in art, the true from the facti- 
tious ; thus we become learned in both. In no other way can a 
sound critic be formed, much less a sound artist. As every ar- 
tist must begin by taking things on trust, it is of the last impor- 
tance that he does not misplace his admiration, for it is not so 
easy to unlearn as it is to learn. Hence I would advise the 
student to select his models from among the highest. In imi- 
tating these no doubt the difficulty will be greater than if he felt 
he followed those who seem nearer to himself ; but high attempts 
have this double advantage, that they make us better acquainted 
with what we cannot, as well as what we can do. Nor is the 
former an unimportant piece of knowledge, if we have but the 
courage to meet it ; it is profitable in more than one sense ; since 
the very process by which we attain to it strengthens our pow- 
ers in having tasked them to the utmost. If many men fail 
from attempting too much, there are also some who owe their 
want of success to having attempted too little. For I believe it 
to be no less difficult for a great mind to excel in trifles, than for 
a narrow mind to produce a great work. I would therefore rec- 
ommend it to your friend to place at the head of his list Claude, 
Titian, the two Poussins, Salvator Rosa, and Francesco Mola, to- 
gether with Turner and the best of the modern artists, whom I 
cannot be supposed as meaning to exclude after what I have 
already said of the English School. I would have him study 
them all, and master their principles and examine their masses 
of light and shadow and color ; observe what are the shapes of 
these, and how they recall and balance each other ; and by what 
lines, whether of light, shadow, or color the eye travels through 
the pictures. Among the painters I have mentioned (with the 
exception of the two Poussins) no two styles will be found to 
have the least resemblance, yet they are not more unlike than 



206 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

nature often is at different times to herself. It is for the sake 
of the difference that I recommend them ; as the exclusive study 
of any one of them, though by the brightest intellect, would 
never make even a tenth-rate Titian or Claude, much less an 
original painter. 

" Every original work becomes so from the infusion (if I may 
so speak) of the mind of the artist, and of this the fresh materi- 
als of nature alone are susceptible. The works of man cannot 
be endued with a second life, that is, with the mind of another ; 
they are to another as air already breathed. It is this imparted 
life which we call genius ; we know not how communicated, or 
what it is, but the spirit within us discerns it in an instant, 
whether in a picture or poem, and we pity, love, admire, or give 
the reins to the mind to travel where it listeth through the name- 
less regions of reverie. It is not unusual for young artists to be 
startled at the depth of tone and the powerful chiaro-oscuro of 
the old masters, and to think them exaggerated, if not unnatural. 
But the old masters were not only true, but in their best works 
express the highest truth, such as nature reveals only to a gifted 
few. Their effect may be called the poetical moods of nature, 
occurring rarely, and only known to occur in poetical minds. 
Sir Joshua has the same thought somewhere, though he has ex- 
pressed it better. I think it is Young who says, ' an undevout 
astronomer is mad.' This may also apply to the painter. It 
has been my happiness to know many artists who were no less 
estimable for their moral and religious characters than distin- 
guished for their genius. I hope your young friend may be 
added to their number. He has chosen a profession in itself 
innocent, if properly pursued, that is, for its own sake, in a high 
degree elevating. Indeed it seems as if no one could truly love 
nature without loving its divine author, who in all his works, 
even in the terrible, if rightly understood, no less than in the 
beautiful, speaks only in the language of love. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 207 

" I feel assured that to you I need not apologize for these 
concluding remarks ; when we hear of a young man of genius, it 
is natural to wish him a happiness proportioned to his endow- 
ments. I remain, my dear sir, with the highest esteem and re- 
spect, sincerely yours, 

"Washington Allston." 

Following is an extract from a letter by Allston to John 
Greenough, written in 1827 : 

" I am glad to hear that you are devoting your time to draw- 
ing. No reputation, however high during the artist's life, will 
survive it, except he be a first-rate colorist like Sir Joshua. But 
great as he was, and you know my admiration of him, I still 
think he would have been ten times greater had he known how 
to draw; for he had both character and expression, and only 
lacked the higher invention because he wanted the means of em- 
bodying his conceptions. His capacity for inventing showed 
itself in his backgrounds and his chiaro - oscuro, and it would 
have been equally rich, I have no doubt, in form, had he been 
equally master of that. 

" I am persuaded that anyone may learn to draw accurately 
if he will only be patient and peg for it. To draw finely, that is 
with grace and beauty, is another thing. This requires vigorous 
genius, but no one can know if he has this genius until he has 
first fagged to acquire accuracy. I am myself too much fagged 
with my day's labor, or would willingly fill this paper, so I must 
bid you good-night. God bless you. 

"Washington Allston." 



CHAPTEK XVIII. 

LETTEES FROM 1826 TO 1830. — BEGINNING OF COGDELL CORRE- 
SPONDENCE. — ALLSTON'S LETTERS TO COGDELL, VERPLANCK, AND 
LESLIE. — HORATIO GREENOUGH AND LESLIE TO ALLSTON. 

From Allston's return to Boston, in 1818, to 1827, lie kept 
up his correspondence with Leslie, to whom he revealed himself 
with confidence and affection. After 1827 intervals between his 
letters to Leslie began to lengthen, and he wrote more frequently 
to Gulian C. Yerplanck, of New York, and John F. Cogdell, of 
Charleston, S. C. Cogdell was a young artist friend for whom 
Allston seemed to have the warmest regard. He wrote to him 
with openness, as to a younger brother. This feeling as of 
kindred, was shared by Allston's mother, who said she regarded 
Cogdell as a son. 

In his correspondence with Leslie, Yerplanck, and Cogdell, 
running from 1818 to 1843, Allston gives us a record, from which 
had nothing more been preserved, we would be able to form a 
clear estimate of his character. These letters need no word of 
comment or explanation, and we give them with confidence that 
they will be found extremely interesting : 

From Allston to Cogdell. 

"Boston, July 1, 1826. 
" Dear Cogdell : I suppose you know that I am not formed 
for being a very frequent correspondent. I must acknowledge 
that I am not. Perhaps, however, were the number of letters 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 209 

known which I write in the course of a year, I might not be 
thought quite so sad a one. That I write many letters, then, 
supposes many correspondents, which is indeed the case — in 
Europe as well as here. When this is considered, together with 
the little leisure which my arduous profession leaves me, I feel 
very sure you will allow much for me. 

" When I wrote the passage which you quote from my letter 
in your last, I sincerely entertained the hope it expressed ; but 
it was grounded on the contingency of my possessing the health 
and ability requisite to complete the work on which many other 
of my hopes have been raised. And I failed from the want of 
both. In addition to other calamities I was taken from my labors 
two months at one time by a severe attack of influenza. Indeed 
it is no exaggeration to say that I have lost, by illness and bad 
weather, more than four months since October. You tell me 
very kindly to keep up my spirits ; I thank you. It has been no 
easy matter to do so, I assure you. Were nothing at stake, at 
least were the stake any other than it is, I should count these 
interruptions and delays as nothing, for I may say from experi- 
ence that I am patient of toil and obstacle ; but when the thought 
crosses me of how much is depending on my present labor, I 
have need indeed of all my philosophy to keep in heart. Afflic- 
tion and various misfortunes have long since taught me the duty 
of resignation. I may say that I have been inured to disap- 
pointments ; not that I do not keenly feel them, but that I have 
learned to submit to them, and it is well for my present work 
that I have been, requiring as it does not only all my faculties 
but their free exercise. I cannot say, however (though proof 
against absolute despondency), that I have always been able to 
sustain that entire self-possession so essential to their freedom. 
I could not always drive from me the benumbing, anxious 
thought ; it would come in the midst of my work ; and there have 

been times when it has fallen upon me like the gigantic hand in 
14 



210 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

the ' Castle of Otranto,' as if it stretched forth from my picture, 
and was about to crush me through the floor. This may seem 
strong ; but if you ever felt the ' sinking of the heart,' when in 
the midst of a work, on the success of which your all depended, 
and that success, too, depending on a thorough self-possession, 
you will not think it too strong. This may in part account for 
my doing arid undoing and doing again what, in happier moments, 
I might have done at once. But this is to me a reluctant sub- 
ject, and I will spare you as well as myself. And it is better that 
I say no more about my picture until I can have the pleasure of 
telling you that it is finished. This, however, I may allow my- 
self to say now, that I have never been so well satisfied with my 
labors as within the last three months. My health is so much 
improved that I work eight or nine hours a day. 

" My friend Mr. Amory has informed me that you had re- 
mitted to him, while he was in Philadelphia, the amount of your 
subscription, for which I beg you to accept my thanks. I shall 
not, however, appropriate it to my own use until ' Belshazzar ' is 
ready for delivery to the subscribers. In the meantime Mr. 
Amory, who is so kind as to act as ' Bel's ' treasurer, has placed 
it to your account, and considers it on interest, for which he will 
account to you on the completion of the picture, when I receive 
the principal. 

" I have been much gratified by your remarks on my picture 
of the ' Dead Man ' at Philadelphia, and I thank you heartily for 
the praise bestowed, which is high enough, I am sure, to have 
satisfied me, had my pretensions been much greater. My recol- 
lection of the picture is now so indistinct that I should not vent- 
ure, were I so inclined, to controvert the few objections you 
have made. It is most probable, were I to see it again, I should 
agree with you in all, with one exception, and I have no doubt I 
could point out many faults which your partiality has over- 
looked. The exception alluded to is to the remark of the heads 



Dead Man Revived by Touching the Bones of the 
Prophet Elijah. 

From the original in the possession of the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Art. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 211 

of the two Feretrori being two small. Whatever of style the 
character of the design may possess is owing, I think, to this 
proportion. It is grounded on a sound principle extracted from 
the study of the antique and the old masters, particularly the lat- 
ter. Michael Angelo owes much of his grandeur to this princi- 
ple. He has pushed it indeed much farther than I should dare to 
follow it. I have been much struck, however, with the justness 
of your objection to the introduction of the wife of the reviving 
man ; it is so just that were I to compose the subject again I 
should omit her. The incident (her fainting) is dramatic, and as 
such does not harmonize with the miracle, which is epic. 

" Sincerely yours, 

" W. Allston." 

From Allston to Leslie. 

"Boston, November 9, 1826. 
" Dear Leslie : I write you again, and yet not with the inten- 
tion of fulfilling my long-made promise of a long letter. But I 
know you will readily forgive the delay when you shall hereafter 
learn the cause. I have had many things to depress me, and to 
indispose me for writing about myself. I could never see the 
benefit, either to ourselves or our friends, of talking about our 
misfortunes ; so I make it a rule to spare both parties by holding 
my tongue till I can use it to a more useful or pleasurable pur- 
pose. I trust, however, that the difficulties under which I have 
so long labored will soon be at an end, and leave me in a condi- 
tion to play the part of Hero to a letter, with some pleasure to 
you and without pain to myself. But all this between ourselves, 
and — I will add — Collins, to whom I wish you to assign it as the 
cause of my not writing him, telling him at the same time that I 
will make him ample amends when my bright day comes. 

"My purpose in writing to you now is to ask your good office 
in behalf of a most valued friend, one who has been to me a friend 
indeed, and to whom I could render no service that would make 



212 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

me less a moral debtor. Kindness when disinterested can never 
be repaid, and suck has his been to me. This preface might 
perhaps seem to announce a more important service than the 
one I would here render Mr. Amory ; but I could not forbear 
saying what I have, or indeed adding, malgre the occasion, that 
he is one of the few men who would find it impossible to make 
you feel ' gratitude as a brother? But to the point : Mr. Amory 
has shipped by the Plato, for Liverpool, three pictures, which 
will be sent to Messrs. Baring & Bates, London, for sale. Now, 
the favor I have to ask you is to go and look at them, and if 
they please you, to make favorable mention of them to such gen- 
tlemen, should you know any, as you may think likely to become 
purchasers. In making this request Mr. Amory would not for 
the world wish you to utter a syllable in their favor unless you 
liked the pictures ; nor would I propose it on any other condition. 
All we ask is your unbiassed opinion, and good word, if favorable 
and if the opportunity occur to speak it. This being premised 
(as the lawyers say) I may now give my opinion, but I give it 
without even the wish that it should affect yours, however confi- 
dently I speak. The Claude is genuine ; I have no doubt of it 
whatever. No other man ever painted such an atmosphere as is 
there. Of the Salvator Rosa — I have too little acquaintance with 
Salvator's hand to say whether it is by him or not. But if it is 
not by him it must be an original by some other master ; it does 
not look like a copy. But by whomsoever it may be, I think it a 
very fine picture. And so it seems to have been thought by 
others, having been sold many years since in Paris for two thou- 
sand dollars, and at a time when the English were not there, and 
of course money more scarce. It went thence to Switzerland. 
The Backhuysen, so far as I am acquainted with the master, ap- 
pears to be genuine. And this, too, if not a Backhuysen, I 
would venture to say is no copy. These pictures, before they 
came into Mr. Amory's possession, belonged to Mrs. Amory 's 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 213 

uncle, who lived many years in France, and I believe died there. 
You will no doubt remember Mrs. and Mr. Amory in London. 
They well remember you. 

" And now accept my congratulations on the birth of your 
son and heir ; I hope he will inherit (if your modesty will allow 
me to say it) both your virtues and genius. At any rate, he may 
the former, as he will have the advantage of his father's example ; 
and should that only fall to his lot, better that than only the 
latter, for goodness before greatness every wise man must wish 
in those he loves. 

" I enclose a letter to Mr. Howard requesting him to trans- 
fer to you one of the tickets to which I am entitled as an associ- 
ate ; the other I have asked him to give to Collins. Though it 
is but a trifle yet I know he will accept it as a mark of my con- 
tinued regard, which I can assure him has not abated an atom, in 
spite of time and distance. 

" I have not seen Dr. Channing for a fortnight ; he has been 
in the country." 

From Allston to Cogdell. 

" Boston, June 21, 1827. 
" Deak Cogdell : I have just heard of your arrival in New 
York, and I send you these few lines to bid you welcome by an- 
ticipation to Boston, for now, that you are so near, I cannot 
doubt that you intend to favor us with a visit. As I am so 
much in arrears to you in letters, if my apologies were in pro- 
portion I fear I should have little room for anything else were I 
to attempt them now, so, as I hope soon to have the pleasure of 
seeing you, I shall defer them till then. In the meantime, to 
take something from my apparent remissness, I must tell you 
that I sent you (in a letter to my mother), some time since, a 
message respecting your bust of Dr. Holbrook, which I desired 
her to tell you I thought did you great credit. I may now add 



214 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

that I consider it, for a first attempt, a very remarkable perform- 
ance, and one which gives assurance of future excellence. With 
some practice and a little hard fagging (you know my doctrine, 
that nothing is to be done without it), I think you will be able 
safely to sign yourself sculptor. What particularly pleased me 
in the bust was the strong, marked character, which satisfied me, 
though I have never seen the living original, that it must be an 
excellent likeness. Next to that was the truth of the several 
quantities, a particular in which most beginners are mainly lack- 
ing. As to the faults, they are such as proceed from inexpe- 
rience, and which time, of course, will soon enable you to cor- 
rect. Ipede fausto. 

" I suppose you have heard of our Exhibition here. As I am 
so large a contributor, I suppose I must be careful, in speaking 
of it, to except my own works. This, however, I need not be 
scrupulous about in writing to you, who I know would never 
suspect me of self-praise. The Exhibition, then, has surprised 
everybody, myself among them. I assure you that I have seen 
worse in London. And what has also been an agreeable matter 
of wonder is the astonishing success it has had with the public. 
Day after day and week after week it has been thronged to a 
most delightful degree of annoyance — delightful, at least, to the 
astonished artists, to whom it might well have been jam jam, but 
never satis, I have seen no account of the Exhibition at New 
York. I hope it has been as successful a one. The receipts 
here have been upward of three thousand dollars. I saw, how- 
ever, a very handsome notice of my friend Morse's address. 
Pray tell him to send me a copy of it by you." 

From Allston to Leslie. 

" Boston, August 12, 1827. 
" Dear Leslie : This will be handed to you by Mr. John 
Greenough, with whom (if he is not already known to you), I 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 215 

beg to make you acquainted. He has had the advantage of a 
liberal education, and you will find him one of cultivated mind, 
and of good taste in letters, which, though it does not qualify a 
man to judge of pictures, much less to paint, must still be a 
matter of no small moment to a young artist, inasmuch as refine- 
ment in things even minutely connected with it, will render him 
less liable to contract vulgar or narrow views of art. He that 
has elevated views on one subject which he has cultivated, is not 
likely to form mean ones on any other to which he may give his 
mind. In the truth of this I know you will agree with me, and 
also in the opinion that no artist of real eminence can be found 
of vulgar taste, even on subjects wholly foreign to his art. 

" Ever truly yours, 

"Washington Allston." 

From Allston to Verplanclc. 

" Boston, January 31, 1828. 

" My Dear Sir : I read your book, ' Evidences of Revealed 
Religion,' with more than pleasure, I trust with spiritual profit ; 
many of your arguments appeared to me new ; the whole, I 
thought cogent and eloquent. As to the dedication, I could 
wish I had better deserved it ; at any rate, I am grateful for its 
kindness. 

" Your kindness is indeed unremitting, for I have again to 
thank you for your letter of the 9th, enclosing the report of the 
1 Debates.' Will you do me the favor to present my best ac- 
knowledgments to Major Hamilton for the very kind and flatter- 
ing notice with which he was pleased to honor me in his elo- 
quent speech in Congress. 

" You will probably soon meet in Washington with a young 
sculptor and friend of mine, Mr. Horatio Greenough, who has a 
letter to you from Mr. Dana ; he was educated at our college, 



216 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

and has passed two years in Italy, which, from ill-health, he was 
obliged to leave in the commencement of a career of no common 
promise. It is his intention, however, to return thither, when 
his purse will let him, and I think I hazard nothing in saying 
that, before many years, I shall look for his station among the 
very first in his art. He has genius, harmony, and modesty. 
The last, I would fain believe, is always the natural shadow of 
the first. At least it follows his genius like one of the quiet 
backgrounds of Yan Dyck. He is, besides, a gentleman, not 
merely in manners, but in that better quality which does not 
meet the eye. Indeed I esteem his character as a man no less 
than I admire his genius as an artist. I feel sure you will be 
pleased with him. His main object in visiting Washington is 
to model a bust of the President. His likenesses are very strik- 
ing, as he works with as much facility as a painter, indeed more, 
as he suffers the original to walk about while he is working, 
which a painter could not do. I hope he will find many others 
to model, as I know that his purse is not over heavy. Lest 
others, however, should mistake him for a mere sculptor of 
busts, I may here observe that he is not confined to portraits, 
but has studied and is qualified to shine in the highest branch 
of his art, the inventive ; an evidence of which we have in 
his ' Dead Abel,' an original, full-sized statue, which he brought 
home from Italy, a figure of beauty and truth, and such a first 
work as I have never before seen. 

" Believe me, ever truly yours, 

"W. Allston." 

From Allston to Cogdell. 

" Boston, March 21, 1828. 
"Deak Cogdell : I received your letter of the 8th inst. at a 
late hour last evening, and proceeded to answer it without delay ; 
though I fear that on the point on which you are so desirous of 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 217 

having my opinion I cannot reply with that decision which long 
experience has enabled me to exercise on questions relating to 
my own branch of the art. It is certainly true, as you observe, 
that more expression is given to the eye by carving the retina, 
and yet it is not practised by the moderns, any more than by the 
ancients, except in portraits. In this branch it was sometimes 
practised by the Greeks, especially those who nourished under 
the Caesars ; of this I remember an instance, in the head of the 
Emperor Lucius Yerus. But why it should be confined to por- 
traits I confess I can see no good reason. Yet the sculptor 
might be able to assign a very satisfactory one. Indeed, on 
reflection, I cannot but think they are governed in it by some 
sound principle, as otherwise the practice would not have been 
so universal ; for I cannot call to mind an example to the con- 
trary in any ancient statue not professedly a portrait. I state 
this candidly, lest my own inability to account for it should 
seem to incline me to justify a departure from it. But, though 
the question may be said to lie out of my peculiar province, and 
is consequently one on which I should speak with diffidence, 
there is yet a general (maxim) principle, applicable to all arts, or 
rather, I should say, essential to their successful cultivation, 
concerning which I feel no such distrust, namely, that if the 
peculiar process or mode by which we propose to produce a 
desired effect be the suggestion of a strong impulse, it is better 
to risk it than to follow the prescription of any authority how- 
ever high. It is only (if I may be allowed the phrase) by thus 
acting out themselves that men of genius originate new modes of 
excellence and widen the sphere of intellect. The very difficul- 
ties which an untried course presents are but so many additional 
stimulants to invention, which often grows, like the fabled sala- 
mander, after six years unsuccessful heating of the furnace, out 
of the fire of the seventh. When our rule fails it is time enough 
to adopt that of others. We shall adopt it then with more 



218 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

advantage from the conviction that onrs was insufficient. But I 
should be slow to give up any strong impulse, in anything relat- 
ing to the art, until it had proved its own insufficiency. I would 
first give it fair play, and convince myself before I deferred to 
the judgment of others. Many an artist has drawn the world after 
him by resolutely following the path which it had predicted 
would lead to nothing, or worse than nothing. Two painters, 
and one of them no less a man than Tintoret, advised Ludovico 
Caracci to give up painting for some other employment more 
suited to his abilities ; but Ludovico knew what was in him ; he 
persevered and became the founder of the great Bolognese School. 

"If I have expressed myself with sufficient clearness you 
will perceive that the result of these remarks is intended to con- 
firm you in the mode you have chosen to treat your subject, that 
is, to express the retina. If you do it to satisfy yourself, I think 
I may venture to say that you will be more likely to please 
others than if you followed mere authority without conviction. 
When it is finished let me know, without reserve, what you think 
of it yourself. I am glad to find you persevere, and congratulate 
you on your success in General Moultrie's head. By the way, 
J. R. Smith has lately published a very valuable work on what 
he calls ' Picturesque Anatomy,' exhibiting the skeleton through 
the muscles. It is copied from the work of an old Spanish 
painter ; and though the outlines are in bad taste (which is the 
fault of the original) it is the best treatise for an artist I have 
seen. I will send you a copy by the first opportunity by water. 

" As for myself, I am well at present. But I have been far 
otherwise, having had, by the blessing of Providence, a narrow 
escape from death — so near that the doctor said had he been 
fifteen minutes later I should have died. I was poisoned by eat- 
ing partridge. God bless you. 

" Your sincere friend, 

" W. Allston." 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 219 

From Allston to Cogdell. 

"Boston, August 3, 1828. 
" Dear Cogdell : It was my wish to have written to you 
long ago, but many things have prevented me ; among others 
not the least has been low spirits, for I have had much to 
depress me. For this last reason I doubt not you will readily, 
and as you always do. kindly excuse the delay. It has been in 
this, as in many other instances, no slight aggravation of my 
depression that it unfitted me for answering those calls of 
friendship and duty which I most anxiously desired to fulfil. 
But I never like to speak of my low spirits, and always avoid it, 
unless the occasion makes it necessary. Such an occasion seems 
to me the present ; and I mention it that you might know why 
I have so long delayed telling you how much I like your last 
work, the bust of General Moultrie. Though I expected con- 
siderable improvement on your first effort, I found it very much 
to exceed my expectation, and most heartily do I congratulate 
you on your success. I can feel no doubt as to the strength of 
the likeness, though I knew not the old patriot ; I feel assured 
of it from the strong individual character it possesses — speaking 
to the spectator in the language of a peculiar mind. In this you 
have effected the chief purpose of the sculptor's art, without 
which the most expert management of the material, or the most 
elaborate finish, is but the triumph of the craftsman. Char- 
acter, character in your art as well as in mine, is that which 
shows the artist, since it is the fruit of the intellect, not of the 
hand and eye, which we may often see trained to a high degree 
of skill, with but small aid from the head. Hogarth used to 
complain bitterly of the engravers whom he occasionally em- 
ployed to assist him, some of them his superiors too, in the 
mechanical part, though not to be named with him in mind. 
' Hang your beautiful lines,' he would say ; * give me character, 



220 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

if you do it with a hobnail.' He often obliterated weeks of 
their fine work without compunction. I think it is hardly neces- 
sary for me to say ' Go on,' for you ought now to feel confidence 
in yourself. If you have it not, I hope my sincere testimony 
will impart some. For as confidence in a weak mind must 
always, from increasing its weakness, end either in vanity or 
despair, so in a strong one will the want of it render its very 
strength abortive. And I doubt if as many men have not failed 
from distrusting as from overrating their powers. Let me 
therefore urge you to rely on the strength which you have shown 
you possess, as one of the essentials of success. 

" You have probably heard of our friend Stuart's death. 
He had been breaking above a year past, and he seemed to have 
been aware for some months before that he could not survive 
long. The art as well as his country has suffered a loss in him 
that will not soon be supplied. The infirmities under which 
he labored, even during the last ten years of his life, though 
they kept him poor, did not however, as his later works bear 
witness, extend to his mind. His mind indeed was vigorous to 
the last, and his bereaved family have this consolation, that he 
has left nothing in his Art, old and infirm as he was, to take 
from his great name. 'Tis, alas ! the only consolation he had 
it in his power to leave them, for they are quite destitute. But 
they have not been without sympathy from the people of Bos- 
ton, who have got up an exhibition of such of his works as could 
be collected, for their benefit ; in addition to which they have 
opened a subscription for the purchase of his ' Head of Wash- 
ington,' at two thousand dollars, for the Athenaeum. If your 
Annual Exhibition were profitable (which I think I understood 
you to say it was not) I should propose you granting them the 
benefit of a week or two during your next season. I wrote a 
short notice of Mr. Stuart, which was published in the Boston 
Daily Advertiser of July 22d ; if it has not been copied in your 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 221 

papers you will probably meet with it at some of the news- 
paper offices. 

" Ever your friend, 

"W. Allston." 
From Allston to Cogdell. 

"Boston, December 21, 1828. 

" My Deae Cogdell : 

[Portion referring to C.'s recent visit to Boston has been 
omitted.] 

" I should have liked to have talked with you whole days 
about the art, and to have hunted up together every picture in 
the town and neighborhood, but of that pleasure, as well as 
many others, I was constrained not to think, being then (as I 
still am) ' Belshazzar's ' slave, as much so indeed as the Genie was 
to Aladdin's lamp ; I wish I could add with equal power to per- 
form my master's behests ; but the painter's magic, as long ex- 
perience has taught me, is no ' hey, presto,' work. Indeed it is 
work — that is, labor, though of the brain, yet labor, which makes 
it, as the world might think, no magic at all. This truth would 
perhaps have been received by me with an ill grace some twenty 
years ago, if at all, by a youthful brain full of magnificent proj- 
ects. I thought then, and I suppose like most young artists, that 
I had only to dream dreams, and the hand would immediately 
embody them ; and so it did after a fashion, that is, it put some- 
thing on canvas, which, by the help of another dream, I made 
to resemble the first. But a man who follows up making dreams, 
like him who follows up any other (intellectual) manufacture, 
soon comes to have a larger apprehension of his business ; he 
also sees clearer as well as farther every time, every day ; what 
was before simple becomes complex, what seemed one, a thing 
of many parts, all having relation one to another, and each to 
the whole ; what was apparently plain and easy, intricate and 
subtle ; in short, the changes stop not till he seems, as it were, to 



222 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

see quite another thing, and with other eyes. But does not his 
power increase with his knowledge ? Certainly. Yet his labor at 
the same time accumulates, since his knowledge only informs 
him that he has more to do. Thus must it be with every artist, 
if he is not content to repeat himself. If he have a true love of 
excellence, and the pursuit of it be his real object, he will find it 
(I should think) impossible to huddle one defect for the sake of 
sparing himself labor. And if his aim be excellence, though 
every day makes it more distinct, yet every day also shows its at- 
tainment to be more arduous. A sanguine youth may here ask, 
1 Who then would be a painter ? ' That same youth, if he have 
the courage to grow old in his art, might hereafter answer, 
' Himself.' For he would then have learned that to overcome a 
difficulty is to create a pleasure. To advance is a law of the 
mind ; and (so its object be innocent) every obstacle removed 
clears away a step nearer happiness. To labor, then, is both 
natural and desirable, and wise, since a wise Providence has so 
ordained it. What artist would complain of labor ? Not I, for 
one. As it respects the pleasure in my art, I certainly appre- 
ciate the moral value of labor too well to complain of it. And 
yet this one picture, on which I am now employed, has caused 
me many and many an" anxious day. And why ? Because on 
this alone depends so much besides fame. For on this alone 
has for many years depended the long-hoped for meeting with a 
good mother and so many other dear relatives. But do not 
think I am repining, deeply anxious as I have felt, and still feel ; 
I may grieve, but not repine. It becomes not a man of sense 
nor a Christian to repine at what he cannot help. I have been 
long schooled to patience and submission ; I endeavor to prac- 
tise them as Christian duties. I am doing my best, and this 
sustains me, and with Heaven's blessing I look forward to a 
happy conclusion. 

" Your account of Mr. West's picture, as well as I recollect 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 223 

it, seems to me very just ; and I perfectly agree with you in 
your criticism of the figure of the Saviour. Yet Mr. West has 
only added one to the uniform failures of all his predecessors. 
It is, indeed, as you have truly said, ' a face no mortal has ever 
or can ever portray.' And it is one which I have long since re- 
solved never to attempt. I sincerely thank you for the kind 
feeling manifested in the concluding remarks of your letter. 
What I have to say on the subject I must defer till I have the 
pleasure of seeing you in Charleston, which I still hope for this 
winter, though it will be much later in the season than I had 
calculated ; for ' Belshazzar,' though near a close, is still unfin- 
ished in spite of all my efforts. 

" Believe me, with sincerest respect and esteem, truly yours, 

" W. Allston." 

From Horatio Greenough to Allston. 

"Florence, November 17, 1829. 

" I have tried the receipt you gave me for a palette, and 
hope one day to arrive at proficiency enough in painting to paint 
a portrait for my amusement, now and then ; but let me protest 
that of all subjects which I have ever attempted to understand, 
color is the most subtle, unattainable, and incomprehensible, 
and by long examination I think I have found that compara- 
tively few pictures are colored. Even those of name, some are 
drawn in chiaro-oscuro with paint, somewhat approximating in 
its general tint to seem so. Others are painted in downright 
light and shade with a little tinge of color glazed into them. 
Almost all seem to have had a conventional palette, which is too 
partially or generally reasoned to embrace the variety of nature, 
or to render her delicate distinctions. Titian is my man, and 
some of the Dutchmen, too, please me quite as much. There is 
a picture in the Flemish room, by Giorgione, of Yenus on a car 



224 WASHINGTON ALLSTOS 

with Love by her side, and several marine deities about her, 
which is one of the most luxurious bursts of light and color that 
ever feasted the eye — such a union of brilliance and harmony 
as really surpasses, I think, everything Italian I have seen. 

" I found my way the other day to a chamber in the gallery, 
which seemed to me worth all I had yet seen, 'twas filled with 
Venetians — Titian, Paul Y., Bassano, Giorgione, etc. What brill- 
iancy is there ! "What music of color ! What grandeur of 
masses ! I know not how it is, but it is only when I see a pict- 
ure of one of these men that I forget my own art and long to be 
a painter." 

"Florence, April 18, 1829. 

" I would give more for one impression than for three unan- 
swerable arguments on a question of art, for words are clumsy 
things after all. I remember that when with you once at Cam- 
bridge I asked your opinion on some doubtful point relating to 
art, and that you said an answer to my question would cost you 
at least three cigars. 

" Sure am I that it would require that number to fit me to 
describe to you my gratification on reading the verses you wrote 
on my groups, which lately reached me in a letter from my 
brother Harry. I believe, my dear sir, that gratified vanity was 
not the foremost or strongest of my pleasures, for your verses 
were as far from being addressed to minds of that class as my 
composition was from being adapted to their tastes." 

From Leslie to Allston. 

" 41 Portman Place, Edge ware Koad, 
" London, February 17, 1830. 

" My Dear Sir : I don't know whose fault it is that our cor- 
respondence has suffered so long an interruption. But I am 
willing to take any share of the blame you will lay on me pro- 
vided you will be quick in bestowing it, and indeed the dread of 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 225 

it is not very great, knowing as I do how gently you deal with 
all who deserve blame. Our friend Morse, during the short visit 
he paid to London on his way to Italy, was unable to execute a 
little commission for you and desired me to attend to it. On 
receiving the twenty pounds from Brockhedon, and telling him 
that you wished me to purchase an ounce of ultramarine with 
part of it, he insisted on sending you some, of which he brought 
a large quantity from Italy. I have handed fourteen pounds to 
Greenough, and have six more remaining till I hear from you 
what I am to do with it.* 

" In the hope of provoking a retaliation in kind from you, I 
have a mind to give you a full account of myself. Here I am, 
then, with a wife and three children (one boy and two girls) liv- 
ing in a home but two doors from one that was inhabited by 
my father and mother thirty years ago, when I was an urchin. 
I take my boy, Robert, who is my eldest, a walking by the Pad- 
dington Canal, where my father took me when about his age, to 
see the men digging. One of my sisters came from America in 
the same ship with Morse, and is living with us. 

"I am now painting a picture from the 'Merry "Wives of 
Windsor,' in which I have introduced nearly all the characters. 
I imagine them to be assembled after dinner at Mr. Page's 
house, who, you remember, had invited them to make up the 
quarrel between Falstaff and Shallow, over a venison pasty. 
Falstaff will be flirting with the two ladies, and Slender, seated 
sheepishly by Anne Page. Mr. Page is offering the latter some 
ale from his best silver goblet, by way of making him feel at 
home. Behind Falstaff are Pistol, Nym, and Bardolph, laying 
their heads together, and perhaps plotting some new roguery. 
Beyond them are Sir Hugh Evans and Shallow. The dinner is 

*Dana appends to this the following note: " John Greenough was in London 
and extremely poor, and Allston, at this time suffering deep distress of mind for 
want of money, and paralyzed in his art by it, could not resist disposing of that 
which, if sent home to him, would have been at least a momentary relief." 
15 



226 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

just removed, and on a side-table are the ' pippins and cheese,' 
of which Sir Hugh makes mention in the play. I hope to get 
this picture ready for the Exhibition, and if so I shall have been 
quicker with it than anything I have painted. I believe I have 
lost at least half my life in making alterations in my pictures, 
most of which were perhaps mere changes and additions without 
being improvements. My wife and children are powerful per- 
suaders to a more rapid course of proceeding. 

"You will be surprised to hear that although I have had 
constant employment for the last fourteen years, I am as poor 
as when you were here. I am not more extravagant, and my ex- 
penses are only the necessary ones of my family. I believe, 
however, I can paint better and quicker than I ever could, and 
I have a prospect of doing something by publishing prints of 
my pictures. I now feel as if I was really in earnest and all my 
past life but a dream. I sigh in vain over time lost in all sorts 
of trifling, and make sturdy resolutions to go on vigorously, and, 
as I hope, in the right path for the future. When I recur to our 
former intimacy, I feel sure it is to you I owe my first relish for 
all the best qualities in Art. Many of your maxims that I was 
not capable of comprehending when I heard them, now come 
home to me with the fullest conviction of their truth. I wish 
you were here, and I cannot but think you will come ; I think 
also you would now be appreciated and patronized. I hear but 
little of you from Americans who come here. They all describe 
you as living very retired. They agree in the account that you 
have painted many small pictures and that you have sold them 
all advantageously, but that your large ' Belshazzar ' is still un- 
finished. I have no doubt you have painted twenty fine pictures 
on the canvas of that one. "What a pity they could not be sepa- 
rated. I dare say you might finish it as well in three days as in 
three years if you would have the resolution. I wish you would, 
and then come immediately to England. With the exception 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 227 

of Mr. "West and Sir Thomas Lawrence I believe you were not 
nmck acquainted with the principal artists here. You would 
now be, and I am sure you would enjoy their society as much 
as I do. 

" I need say nothing of the death of Sir Thomas Lawrence, 
of which, I dare say, full accounts have reached the American 
newspapers. His loss is much felt in the immediate circle of 
his friends who well knew the great kindness of his heart. I 
remember well his passing by on horseback just as you were 
stepping into the coach to leave London. The farewell you 
took of each other was forever ; ours, I trust was not. When- 
ever you come you will find all your friends, who may be left, 
unchanged, I assure you. I do not think there is a man on 
earth for whom Coleridge has a higher regard than he has for 
you. Lord Egremont speaks frequently of you. He says he 
thinks there is more of the spirit of Raffaelle in your ' Jacob's 
Dream ' than in any picture he knows of painted since his time. 
Pray remember me kindly to Mr. Charming, who, I now hear, 
with great pleasure, enjoys perfect health. I have his essays on 
Bonaparte and on Milton, both of which I read with the greatest 
pleasure and admiration of his talents and of his heart. 

" My wife, who feels as if she knew you, begs me to offer her 
best respects to you, and I am, dear sir, yours ever, 

" C. K. Leslie. 

" P.S. — I ought to tell you that the Anne Page in my pict- 
ure is painted from Mr. West's granddaughter, whom you must 
remember as a beautiful child of thirteen or fourteen. She is 
now married to a Mr. Margany, and is still very handsome." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

COBEESPONDENCE BETWEEN ALLSTON AND VEEPLANCK IN EELATION 
TO PAINTINGS FOE THE CAPITOL AT WASHINGTON, 1830. — ALL- 
STON'S SECOND MAEEIAGE AND SETTLEMENT IN CAMBEIDGEPOET. 
— ACCOUNT OF HIS DAILY LIFE AND HABITS. — HIS LIBEEALITY IN 
EELIGION. 

During the year 1830 an interesting correspondence passed 
between Allston and Gulian C. Yerplanck, in relation to pictures 
for the Capitol at Washington. Yerplanck was a man of let- 
ters, and was a conspicuous figure in public life when politics 
and gentlemen were allied. He was Chairman of the Committee 
of the House of Representatives on Public Buildings. He 
wished Allston to fill, by pictures of suitable subjects, two of the 
panels in the Rotunda of the Capitol, and accordingly obtained for 
him from Congress an order to paint them. The many advan- 
tages secured by such an order, especially for one in need of 
money, must have been very tempting to Allston, and from the 
stand-point of ordinary men it is difficult to understand how he 
could refuse it. 

In declining the distinguished honor conferred by assigning 
so large a space for his work in the Rotunda, Allston shows the 
largeness of his generosity and his freedom from all selfish in- 
fluences. He recommended, as his substitutes, Morse and Yan- 
derlyn, and with no half-hearted commendation, but in terms of 
cordial approval, as men competent to execute the work. Among 
his reasons for declining to paint the pictures for the Government 
was his inexperience in the line of subjects to which he might be 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 229 

restricted. But he had said, that though unused to battle-pieces, 
he sometimes thought he would like to try his hand at one in 
which he could introduce Indians, with their picturesque cos- 
tumes, and we are inclined to think that had it not been for the 
unfinished condition of " Belshazzar," he would have overcome 
his objections and undertaken at least one of the panels. 

From Verplanch to B. H. Dana. 

" Washington, February 17, 1830. 
" My Deak Sib : I have this moment written to Allston about 
a picture for our public buildings from his hand, which, as Chair- 
man of the Committee on Public Buildings, I hope to be able 
to get ordered by Congress, and passed in our general bill for 
the buildings, etc., without any flourish, or limiting him to any 
subject of the day. I hope he will answer me without delay, 
and I must rely upon you to make him do so. 

" Before I leave Congress I trust to do the state some service 
by reducing the magnificent uselessness of our hall, and leaving it 
to my successors in a state where common-sense can be spoken 
and heard, and where a shrill voice or else the lungs of a Stentor 
will not be the chief requisites of a Congressional orator. In 
other words, I am very busy in studying both the theory and 
practice of acoustics, for the purpose of improving the hall, and 
I am convinced that such a reform would do more for the legis- 
lature, as well as its taste and eloquence, than any law or con- 
stitutional amendment. I feel that I cannot fill my sheet with 
anything worth reading, and having begun with the benevolent 
intention of making you act as Allston's flapper, according to the 
Laputan usage, must end by again urging upon you that duty. 

" Yours truly, 

" G. C. Yeeplanck." 



230 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 



From Allston to Verplanck. 

" Cambridge, Mass., March 1, 1830. 

" My Deae Sik : I did not get your letter of the 17th ult. 
until the night before last (Saturday), and I shall endeavor, 
igreeably to your wishes, to answer it in a business-like manner, 
though I have, I fear, but little of that laconic spirit, so essen- 
tial to it, which I used so much to admire in our excellent friend 
S. Williams, of Finsbury Square. Without more flourish, then, 
you could not desire to be more heartily thanked than I thank 
you for this additional instance of the friendship with which you 
honor me. These are not words of courtesy, but of grateful 
truth, and yet I fear there are certain formidable, and to my 
present apprehension, insurmountable obstacles to my profiting 
by your kindness. The subjects from which I am to choose, 
you say, are limited to American History. The most prominent 
of these, indeed the only ones that occur to me, are in our mili- 
tary and nayal achievements. Herein lies my difficulty. I will 
not say that I doubt — I know that I have not — any talent for bat- 
tle-pieces ; and, perhaps, because they have always appeared to 
me, from their very nature, incapable of being justly represented ; 
for, to say nothing of the ominous prelude of silent emotion, when 
you take away the excessive movement, the dash of arms, the 
deadly roll of the drum, the blast of the trumpet, forcing almost 
a heart into a coward, the rush of cavalry, the thunder of artil- 
lery, and the still more fearful din of human thunder, giving a 
terrific life to the whole — and all this must be taken from the 
painter — what is there left for his canvas ? It seems to me (at 
least in comparison with the living whole) caput mortuum. All 
these things, and indeed much more, can be made present to the 
imagination by words. In this the poet and historian have the 
advantage of the painter. I know not where, even among the 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 231 

great names of my art, to look for anything like the living mass 
of one of Cooper's battles ; there are besides many circumstances 
connected with these subjects, such as monotony of color, of cos- 
tume, of form, together with a smallness of parts (ever fatal to 
breadth and grandeur), that make them, at least to me, wholly 
untranslatable in the painter's language. The monotony of color 
alone would paralyze my hand. Such being my opinion, you will 
easily believe that I could have no hope of succeeding in sub- 
jects of this nature. Indeed I know from past experience that I 
must fail when the subject is not of myself, that is, in relation 
to the powers of my art, essentially exciting. In a pecuniary 
view it has been, perhaps, my misfortune to have inherited a 
patrimony, since it has lasted only just long enough to allow my 
mind to take its own course till its habits of thought had become 
rigid and too fixed to be changed when change was desirable. 
To be more intelligible, having in the commencement of my art, 
and for the greater part of my subsequent life, only the pleasure 
of its pursuit to consult, I of course engaged in nothing which 
had not that for its chief end — the realizing of my conceptions 
being my chief reward ; for though the pecuniary profit was al- 
ways an acceptable contingency, it was never at that time an ex- 
citing cause ; so far from it, that I have in some instances under- 
taken works for less than I knew they would cost. As an artist 
I cannot, in spite of many troubles, regret this freedom of action, 
since I feel of such that I owe to it whatever professional skill I 
may possess. But of late years, since the source of this liberty 
has been dried up, and the cold current of necessity has sprung 
up in its stead, I have sometimes, as a man, almost felt the pos- 
session to have been a misfortune, for necessity, I find, has no in- 
spiration ; she has not with me even the forcing power. Will- 
ingly, most willingly, would I have been driven by her, but it 
seems that at my age it cannot be ; my imagination has become 
too fixed in its own peculiar orbit to be moved by anything ex- 



232 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

trinsie. In other words, it seems to me almost morally impossi- 
ble to compose, much less to finish, a picture where the subject 
does not afford pleasurable excitement. I trust you know me too 
well to doubt my patriotism because I cannot be inspired to 
paint an American battle. I yield in love of country to no man ; 
no one has gloried more in the success of her arms, or more sin- 
cerely honored the gallant spirits whose victories have given her 
a name among nations. But they need not my pencil to make 
their deeds known to posterity. Could I embody them as they 
deserve, or even make others feel what I have felt, as the fame of 
them came to me across the water, while I was in kind, hospita- 
ble Old England (for such, even while a foe to my country, she 
ever was to me) ; could I send that hearty breeze from our gal- 
lant native land to their hearts, there would be no lack of inspira- 
tion. I would invest them with the grandeur of my art, or touch 
them not. But the power is not mine. I know you will not 
doubt the sincerity of this conviction, but you will better esti- 
mate the strength of it when I add that at no time would the 
commission you propose be more acceptable to me in a pecuniary 
view than at present. 

" But may there not be some eligible subject in our civil his- 
tory ? For myself I can think of none that would make a picture ; 
of none, at least, that belongs to high art. But such a subject 
might possibly have occurred to you. If so, and I find it one from 
which I can make such a picture as you would have me paint, 
both for my own credit and that of the nation, be assured I will 
most gladly undertake it. I am persuaded, however, that you 
will agree with me in this, that no consideration of interest 
should induce me to accept any commission from the Government 
that will not tax my powers to their utmost. My best, indeed, 
may be all unworthy, but less than that my country shall not 
have. In the meantime, that is, till a practicable subject is 
f ound, I must beg you to suspend, if such is in progress, * the 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 233 

order for a picture.' You will readily appreciate the motive for 
this request, namely, to avoid the censure which the good- 
natured world are ever too disposed to bestow on all those who 
seem wanting to their own interests. I know the world too well 
not to foresee that it would do me essential injury were it known 
that I declined such a commission. They would not understand 
the impracticability I have stated, were they even made ac- 
quainted with it. Neither would they believe how grievous to 
me was the necessity of declining it. 

" There is another class of subject, however, in which, were I 
permitted to choose from it, I should find exciting matter enough, 
and more than enough, for my imperfect skill, that is, from Scrip- 
ture. But I fear this is a forlorn hope. Yet why should it be ? 
This is a Christian land, and the Scriptures belong to no country, 
but to man. The facts they record come home to all men, to the 
high and the low, the wise and simple ; but I need not enlarge 
on this topic to you. Should the Government allow me to select 
a subject from them, I need not say with what delight I should 
accept the commission. With such a source of inspiration and 
the glory of painting for my country, if there be anything in me, 
it must come out. Would it might be so ! But let us suppose 
it. Well, supposing such a commission given, there's a subject 
already composed in petto, which I have long intended to paint 
as soon as I am at liberty — the three Marys at the tomb of the 
Saviour, the angel sitting on a stone before the mouth of the 
sepulchre. I consider this one of my happiest conceptions. The 
terrible beauty of the angel, his preternatural brightness, the 
varied emotions of wonder, awe, and bewilderment of the three 
women, the streak of distant daybreak, lighting the city of 
Jerusalem out of the darkness, and the deep-toned spell of the 
chiaro-oscuro, mingling as it were the night with the day, I see 
now before me ; I wish I could see them on the walls at Wash- 
ington. 



234 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

" Now as to the price, should such a dream, I will not call it 
hope, be realized, it would be eight thousand dollars, which I 
believe was the price given to Colonel Trumbull for each of his 
pictures. I should not indeed refuse ten thousand, should Uncle 
Sam take the generous fit upon him to offer it ; but eight is my 
price for that particular composition, which would consist of four 
figures, seven feet high ; the picture itself (an upright) twelve or 
thirteen feet high and ten or twelve wide. Were I to undertake 
a larger composition from another subject, and of the dimensions 
of Colonel Trumbull's, which I think are eighteen by twelve, the 
price would be then ten or twelve thousand. I fear this last 
sum would frighten some of your grave members ; my conscience 
would, however, be quite safe in making the demand, were it 
even more. And I think I have already given the world suffi- 
cient proof that I am not mercenary. 

" Pray do not let any part of this letter get into print. I beg 
you will not think from anything I have said that I intend any 
disrespect to the painters of battles, or that I would underrate 
such pictures ; I meant only to express my own peculiar notions 
of them as picturable subjects, quoad, myself. There are many 
of deserved reputation which show great skill in their authors ; 
and among those of modern date it would be unjust not to men- 
tion, as holding the very first rank, Mr. West's ' Wolf,' and the 
1 Death of Warren and Montgomery,' and the ' Sortie,' by Colonel 
Trumbull. 

" Truly you might say, our good friend's laconic mantle has 
not fallen on the writer of this epistle ; I believe if I could write 
shorter letters I should be a better correspondent, but I have 
not the secret. 

" Ever most truly yours, 

"W. Allston." 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 235 



From Verplanck to Allston. 

" Washington, March 9, 1830. 

" My Deae Sir : Your letter only convinces me the more that 
we must, if we can, have one specimen of ' high art ' on the wall 
of the Capitol. By American history mere revolutionary his- 
tory is not meant. To Scripture I fear we cannot go in the 
present state of public opinion and taste. But does our ante- 
revolutionary history present no subject ? The ' Landing of the 
Pilgrims,' a threadbare subject in some respects, has never been 
viewed with a poet's and painter's eye. What think you of that, 
or of any similar subject in our early history ? Your townsman, 
Dr. Holmes, has recently published a very useful, though not 
important, book of ' Annals.' A hasty glance over the first vol- 
ume of this would perhaps suggest some idea. If not, I still 
fall back upon the ' Pilgrims.' I have read your letter to Colonel 
Drayton, who fully agrees with me in honoring your feeling 
upon this subject, and still wishes to call upon your services in 
embellishing our national annals. Emulating our friend Will- 
iams, not from choice, but from the wish not to lose the mail, I 
will not turn over the leaf. 

" Yours truly, 

" G. C. Verplanck." 

From Allston to Ver planch. 

" Cambridgeport, March 29, 1830. 

" My Dear Sir : Your two letters, of the 9th and 12th, have, 
as the business phrase is, duly come to hand ; as you full 
well know that I cannot be insensible to such persevering kind- 
ness I will not trouble you with a repetition of thanks, but pro- 
ceed to answer them in as business-like a way as I can. 



236 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

"To the first subject you propose, 'The Landing of the 
Pilgrims ' (not unpicturesque), I have a personal objection. It 
has already been painted by an old friend of mine, Colonel 
Sargent, a high-minded, honorable man, to whom I would on no 
account give pain ; which I could not avoid doing were I to en- 
croach on what, at the expense of several years' labor, he has a 
fair right to consider as his ground. I do not like rivalry in any 
shape, and my picture on the same subject would seem like it. 
Indeed it would give me no pleasure to beat anyone. Nor do 
I consider this business of ' beating ' as having any natural con- 
nection with excellence of any kind, which, to be such, must be 
intrinsic and independent of comparison. Nature never made 
two minds alike ; and if the artist, whether poet or painter, has 
any of the mens divinior, with the power of embodying it, his 
production must have a distinctive excellence which not a hun- 
dred bad or good ones by another can either increase or diminish. 
I know this is not the doctrine of the reviewing age, but I be- 
lieve it to be true, nevertheless. Moreover, I doubt if competi- 
tion was ever yet the cause of a great work. It is the love of ex- 
cellence in the abstract, and for itself, that alone can produce 
excellence. And I believe that Raffaelle loved Michael Angelo 
because he thought him his superior for that excellence which 
he could not reach himself. There may indeed be clever imita- 
tions, got up under more ignoble impulses, a kind of second-hand 
originality, as Edmund Dana calls them, that might pass for it ; 
nay, the world is full of them, mocking each other, and some- 
times mocking at, and how bitterly. — But here I am wandering 
off, like Tangent in the play, I hardly know where. After this 
excursion I will not trouble you with my objections to the other 
subject, the ' Leave-taking of Washington,' lest I have no room 
for one of my own choosing, which I should be glad to have you 
approve, namely : ' The First Interview of Columbus with Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella' at court after the discovery of America, 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 237 

accompanied by natives, and so forth, exhibited in evidence of 
his success. As you have read Irving's book it is unnecessary 
for me to describe the scene. Here is magnificence, emotion, 
and everything, the very triumph of ' matter ' to task a painter's 
powers. The announcement and the proof of the birth of a New 
World. This is not thought of now for the first time. I have 
long cherished it as one of the dreams which the future, if the 
future were spared to me, was one day to embody. But to busi- 
ness ; the size of a picture from this would be not less than eigh- 
teen feet by twelve, perhaps twenty by fourteen ; and the price 
fifteen thousand dollars. As to its class, I know not what subject 
could be said more emphatically to belong to America and her 
history than the triumph of her discoverer. We, who now enjoy 
the blessings of his discovery, cannot place him too high in that 
history which without him would never have been. Besides, the 
beautiful work of Irving has placed him as the presiding Genius 
over the yet fresh, and, we will hope, immortal fountain of our 
national literature ; the fame of which Columbus was so long de- 
frauded is now restored to him, and it will endure, at least with 
every American heart. Pray excuse my heroics, I did not mean 
to get into them. May I venture to suggest one popular hint. 
The subject is from an American book, and a book, too, that any 
country might be proud of. Now I am going to take a liberty, 
for which, I feel assured you will not require any apology. Could 
not a commission also be given to my friend Yanderlyn ? He is 
truly a man of genius, who has powers, if opportunity is given to 
call them forth, that would do honor to his country. His 
' Ariadne 'has no superior in modern art; his 'Marius,' also, 
though not equal to that, is still a noble work. Some persons 
have unjustly censured him for not having painted many such 
pictures. The wonder to me is how, circumstanced as he has 
been ever since I have known him, he could have attained to the 
knowledge and power in the art which those works show him to 



238 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

possess. For, I say it not in friendship, but in simple justice, 
Vanderlyn is a great artist. I have known him for many years, 
in France and Italy intimately, and I never knew the time when 
he had not literally to struggle with poverty ; the process of pro- 
curing his daily bread stifling powers that, if allowed freely to 
act, would have filled Europe with his name. I fear that, like the 
subject of my last letter, he finds no inspiration in necessity. 
Let his country now call his genius forth, I know he will do her 
honor. With this opinion of him I need hardly say that my 
own commission would be doubly welcome, should I hear at the 
same time that an equal commission was also given to Yanderlyn. 
And if Uncle Sam's generous mood would incline him, too, to 
commission Morse and Sully, I should then be thereby delighted. 
Morse I consider as a child of my own, and you know what I 
think of him. The quickening atmosphere which he is now 
breathing in Europe, will open some original and powerful seeds 
which I long ago saw in him. I am much mistaken if he has not 
that in him which will one day surprise. And Sully has histori- 
cal powers, already proved in his ' Crossing the Delaware,' of no 
common order. 

" I am much gratified to learn the interest which Colonel 
Drayton does me the honor to take in my behalf. I knew him 
some years since in London, and I have met few persons with 
whom I have been so much pleased on so short an acquaintance. 
Pray present him my respects and thanks. Should the com- 
mission be given I hope they will not limit me as to time, as I 
have several engagements that must previously be fulfilled. My 
interest would, of course, preclude any unnecessary delay. 

" Faithfully yours, 

" W. Allston." 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 239 

From Ver planch to Allston. 

11 House of Representatives, May 29, 1830. 

" My Dear Sir : We (that is our Committee) had deter- 
mined to try the taste and liberality of Congress by recommend- 
ing an appropriation for a picture from you on your terms and 
choice, restricting you only to American History, in which Col- 
umbus would, of course, be included ; but, unfortunately, for the 
present our bill for the improvement of the public buildings has 
been crowded out by the press of other business, and must lie 
over till next winter. 

" Though our proposed alterations in the buildings are im- 
portant both to comfort and taste, there was nothing pressing in 
the bill now passing, and I only regret the delay on your account. 
Next winter we shall have the opportunity of taking up the bill 
early, and I hope with better success. But the extent to which 
Congress will go in these matters depends much on accidental 
circumstances. 



June 1, 1830, Allston married Martha E. Dana, daughter of 
the late Francis Dana, Chief Justice of Massachusetts, and 
cousin on the maternal side to his first wife. He thus an- 
nounces the event to his friend Cogdell : 

" Cambridgeport, June 8, 1830. 
" Dear Cogdell : My patriarchal courtship is at length 
ended, and I am now a happy benedict, and I know not what I 
could do better than to bestow on you some of the spirits which 
the occasion inspires. I was married on Tuesday last at Cam- 
bridge, which we left immediately after the ceremony for our 
present habitation and home. It is a snug, commodious little 
mansion, prettily situated in a retired part of this village, and 



240 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

commanding a pleasant view of the adjacent country, taking in a 
part of the river and a picturesque little pine wood, which used 
to be the favorite haunt of my younger days, to which I used to 
saunter after college hours, and dream sometimes of poetry, and 
sometimes of my art. These youthful associations have an inde- 
finite charm peculiarly pleasant to me at this time ; they seem to 
bring together the earlier and later portions of my life, mingling 
them as it were into one, and imparting to the present some of 
that eloquent quiet of the past which my nature has always most 
loved. You may well suppose that such a home, with the woman 
of my choice, must have no ordinary value in my eyes, after the 
restless, wandering Arab life which I have led for the last ten 
years. 

" Though circumstances have thrown me upon the world for 
so large a portion of my life, and obliged me to mix so long in 
its gay and busy scenes, it has seldom, if ever, afforded me any 
real enjoyment. Not that my disposition is solitary; on the 
contrary, it is inherently social ; for the truest enjoyment I have 
ever known has been in that which has been reflected back to me 
from those I love — only to be found in the domestic circle, and 
among a few personal friends. Nothing like this can the world 
give — nothing but a poor substitute of idle ceremony and heart- 
less show. What are called its pleasures are none to me, nor 
can they be deemed such even by a man of the world till they 
stimulate the mind into an artificial state ; that passing off, they 
are pleasures no longer, but vanish like inebriating illusions, 
while their places are filled with weariness or disgust. But the 
sober pleasures of home, taking their source in virtues consonant 
to our moral nature, have no other condition for their fruition 
and permanence but equal virtue in the receiver as in the giver. 
If they fail then of being realized, it is because we are unworthy 
of them. 

" 1 will not attempt to describe my wife to you ; I will only 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 241 

say, that in the excellence of her disposition, cultivated intellect, 
sound religious principles, and practical piety, I have a prospect 
of as much happiness as anyone may look for in this world. 

" I sent you, as I mentioned in the letter to my mother, 
through some of your correspondents, several messages respect- 
ing your ' Modestia,' saying how much pleased I was with it. I 
may now more particularly say that I think it superior in execu- 
tion to your preceding works, as it ought to be. You have well 
expressed the character, or rather, I should say, embodied the 
sentiment. There is nothing assumed or theatrical in it, but it 
is natural and delicate, and does great credit to your invention. 
There is a remark, however, that I will make which may be of 
use to you in future subjects of this class, viz., the bridge of 
the nose is too thin, and the chin, too large, for beauty, according 
to the antique — at least, secondo il mio gusto. The folds of the 
drapery are also too small — what the artists call t cut up.' But 
when I say that upon the whole I prefer the old general, you 
must not think I am disparaging this last work ; I mention it 
merely as exemplifying what I observed in a former letter — that 
elegance of execution is no match for force of character. The 
- Modestia ' is certainly the superior in execution, but it is the 
personification of an abstraction, and therefore but indirectly, 
and by an effort of our mind, appealing to our sympathies ; 
whereas the other, as the image of an actual, living being comes 
home to us at once, and produces its effect (as in nature) before 

we know why 

" Believe me ever your sincere friend, 

"W. Allston." 

Allston now settled down to his life as an artist and a mar- 
ried man in the village of Cambridgeport. A few years before 

his death he moved from the small inconvenient house he had 
16 



2-12 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

occupied since his marriage, into a new and larger one within 
the same enclosure with his painting-room. This was his only 
change of place from the time of his second marriage till his 
death. 

The peculiarities of his uneventful life in Cambridgeport 
might be termed picturesque ; and, so far as observed by his 
neighbors, they rendered him an object of interest and respect. 
His dignity and refinement of manner were so tempered with 
gentleness that the common people accosted him with freedom, 
though always deferentially. He retained many of the habits 
formed during his residence abroad. It was his custom to turn 
night into day, a custom noticeable as far back as his boarding- 
school life in Newport. Mr. Rogers, the school-master on his 
nightly round to see that the lights were out and the boys in 
bed, would always find young Allston sitting up deeply inter- 
ested in some book. This tendency to late hours followed him 
through life. He seldom went to bed before two o'clock in the 
morning. He would usually rise at about ten, make an elaborate 
toilet, and then prepare his breakfast, which consisted of the 
strongest coffee and some slight relish, like a bit of salt fish or 
ham, and an egg with bread and butter. He never altogether 
gave up his bachelor habits, and would allow no one to prepare 
his breakfast or his bed but himself. 

Immediately after breakfast he would light his cigar and take 
some book on art, which he would read for a while in preparation 
for his painting. About one o'clock, he would enter his studio, 
put down his pitcher of drinking-water which he always brought 
with him through the streets from his house. Making out his 
palette occupied him not less than half an hour, as he had 
always a system of tints to mix and spread out on a scrupulously 
clean, large mahogany palette. Then he would take out his pic- 
ture, place it on the easel, light his cigar, and sit down in front 
of it, seemingly wrapped in pleasing anticipation of what he ex- 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 243 

pected to do. It is obvious that, with this deliberate preparation, 
his hours for work in winter were few. After painting he would 
carefully clean his palette and return to the contemplation of his 
picture, which would continue generally until quite dark. Then 
with his brushes and pitcher in his hands, he would start for 
his house ; and so abstracted was he frequently, that upon 
reaching it, he would return to see whether he had locked his 
studio door. 

After readjusting his toilet, he would enter the dining-room, 
which was also his sitting-room. There he would usually find 
some friend or friends whose intimacy rendered invitations 
superfluous, with whom he would spend an hour or more in 
cheerful conversation, and the enjoyment of a well-provided and 
tempting table, on which there was always sherry wine. 

He was quite an epicure, and at times greatly enjoyed describ- 
ing dinners in Paris, the memory of which seemed to delight 
him. The cloth removed, the wine would be replaced on the 
table, the cigars lighted, and reinforced occasionally by a few 
friends dropping in, the night's conversation would continue. 
About nine o'clock tea, toast, cake, and preserves would be 
served. The following characteristic letter to John Knapp, Esq., 
indicates the informal, and yet epicurean, nature of these oc- 
casions : 

" Cambkidgeport, February 23, 1831. 

" Dear Knapp : As we suppose you have by this time finished 
preparing for the press, the journal of your voyage to the Island 
of Formosa or Natchitoches (the public are divided as to which, 
though they have no doubt you have been to one or the other 
place), Mrs. A. and myself would be happy to have your opin- 
ion on a haunch of Yankee venison at five o'clock on Friday. 

" N. B.— Mr. Hastings and Mr. E. T. Dana, who will be pres- 
ent, are also very curious (at least I venture to think so) to hear 
your opinion ; especially as to how it compares with the foreign 



2±± WASHnr&TOW ALLSTON 

venison which you have doubtless met with in tout travels. A 
bed is provided for yon in which you may rest after the labors 
incident to so important a decision. 

" Ever faithfully yours, 

' C W. Allston.' " 

There are but few surviving who can recall these entertain- 
ments, but all who can. recur to them as unique. Art. science, 
and literature — all current interests of the day. political, theolog- 
ical, social : history and philosophy : adventure, romance, works 
of fiction, the dramatic and comic ; ghost stories, legends, and 
myths, gave occasion and theme for the most interesting conver- 
sation- 

As a young man Allston acquired a great love for smoking, 
which ministered so pleasingly to his dreamy moods that he was 
wont to say that, next to his religion, his cigar had been his 
_ i test eons : Kalian. The mantel-shelf in his painting-room was 
fringed with cigar-stumps. He would frequently stop his work, 
light one of these stumps, and smoke while contemplating his 
picture, then carefully lay the stump in its place and resume his 
work. 

His Borataoas and kindly nature emboldened his neighl 
:; ; ansult him freely on all questions of taste. On one oocs aou 
just before dinner, the bell rang and the servant opened the door 
:: : Id women, who had called, as they said, fcc ask Mr. All- 
^:;a's opinion about some samples of calico ; his wife stepped to 
the door, and told them that they must call at some other time, 
if they would see Mr. Allston. for he had no taste then for any- 
thing but his dinner. Mr. Allston was at the head of the stairs, 
and hearing the conversation, went down, patiently examined the 
samples, and gave his opinion. 

G. L. Brown, the landscape painter of Boston, made a very 
fine copy of a Claude in the Louvre, which was purchased by the 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 245 

Boston Athenaeum. Allston pronounced it the best copy of 
Claude he had ever seen. Some gentlemen, hearing of this high 
commendation, said to Brown, " If you can get Allston to put 
that in writing, you can raise all the money you need." He ob- 
tained the written statement, and as a result, was sent to Europe 
to make other copies. This good fortune gave Brown great en- 
couragement. It enabled him to spend several years abroad, and 
did much to establish his reputation. The unselfish side of AU- 
ston's nature was continually manifesting itself. One evening he 
heard an alarm of fire ; going to the street, he saw the flames in 
the direction of the Poor House. Remembering that an old 
woman, who was formerly a beneficiary of Mrs. Allston, was then 
an inmate of the institution, he at once started off to the rescue. 
Soon after his tall and distinguished figure was seen with the 
old pauper woman leaning on his arm, walking through the 
streets of Cambridgeport. Arrived at the gate, he led his 
charge into the house, and with that courtesy of manner which 
knew no distinction of caste, or time, or place, introduced her to 
Mrs. Allston, saying he had brought her a guest. The scope of 
his kindness was all-embracing. His whole nature was infused 
with love, and its natural expression was loving interest for all. 
He used to say that there was no face so deficient in beauty that 
he could not see in it something beautiful, and so also he could 
discover something divine, a kindred divinity in every human 
soul. 

Soon after Allston's marriage to Miss Dana, he was told that 
Miss Merriam, of Newport, daughter of an Episcopal clergy- 
man, censured him for leaving the Episcopal Church, of which 
he was a member, and going with his wife to the Congrega- 
tional Church, to which she belonged. This report seemed to 
impress him deeply. He said, " I should like to see Miss Mer- 
riam. I have something to say to her, which may enlarge her 
views of religion ; I am neither an Episcopalian nor a Congrega- 



216 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

tionalist, I endeavor to be a Christian." His philosophical and 
analytical mind went to the essence and root, the underlying 
principle of Christianity. He was a Catholic in the largest sense 
of that large word ; from the informal ritualism of the Quaker 
to that of the Bomanist, with all its impressive ceremonial, in 
whatsoever church or society the spirit of Christ was acknowl- 
edged as the supreme guidance — by each and all he could be 
claimed as a member. He might accept creeds, or formulas, or 
theologies ; he might localize his worship so that men would call 
him Churchman or Dissenter ; but his religion, so full of love 
and reverence, could be designated by no narrower term than 
universal, all-embracing, Catholic. This Catholicity could be 
predicated of him not only in religion, but also in art. Speaking 
of his preferences in regard to schools and methods, he was wont 
to say, as before quoted, "lama wide liker." This was certified 
by his kindly bearing. Young artists went to him confident of a 
gentle and encouraging reception. His criticism was always 
mingled with cheering words to strengthen and guide the young 
aspirant aright in the difficult ascent to excellence. Thus, his 
manner invited the inquirer for truth in art and artistic methods, 
and from his presence none went empty away. 



Jeremiah Dictating his Prophecy of the Destruction of 
Jerusalem to Barucb the Scribe. 

From the original in the Art Gallery of Yale College. 



CHAPTEE XX. 

THE "JEREMIAH." — ITS EXHIBITION IN BOSTON. — LETTERS OF 1830 
TO 1832, TO McMURTRIE, VERPLANCK, AND COGDELL. 

During the latter part of the year 1830 Allston worked on his 
picture " Jeremiah," of which he writes to McMurtrie : " I have 
now considerably advanced, a picture, figure larger than life of 
' Jeremiah,' which I shall describe to you in my next, it will be 
finished in a month. I should not have undertaken it, but that I 
was obliged to leave Boston just as I was going to proceed with 
'Belshazzar,' on account of an epidemic that prevailed near my 
painting-room and made it dangerous to remain there. I have 
therefore spent the latter part of the summer in Cambridge, 
where I began this picture. The picture of 'Jeremiah,' I think 
for its materials one of the grandest compositions I have made." 

In December of the same year McMurtrie writes: "I have 
lately seen an account of your last picture of ' Jeremiah.' Do you 
intend we shall see it in Philadelphia ? If you do, I entreat you 
will allow me to use my best endeavors to promote your views in 
this quarter." 

This picture was sold to a Mr. Ball, and first shown gratuit- 
ously to visitors, in 1831, at Miss Catherine Scollay's residence in 
Boston. Allston's friends advised him to prevent this, and de- 
sired him to consent to their making application to Mr. Ball to 
allow its being exhibited for money. This he declined, through 
extreme delicacy, thinking it might lead Mr. Ball to suppose he 
was not satisfied with the sum paid, when he himself had fixed 
the price and named the subject. Dana says : " Through whose 
instrumentality the exhibition was brought about I do not know," 



248 WASHINGTON ALLSTOJST 

and he continues, " What Mrs. Jameson says of want of height 
in the canvas of ' Jeremiah ' may in some degree be true, but I 
suspect that the impression made upon her was from the lowness 
of the room in which she saw it, rather than from want of height 
on the canvas. 

" I should hardly with her call Jeremiah's beard flowing, for 
though somewhat long, it was also rather crisp, I think. * Wide 
eyes glaring on the future ' hardly hints their marvellous expres- 
sion. ' The head of the scribe looking up and struck with a 
kind of horror, finer still ' — is in my mind an entire mistake of the 
expression. She speaks of the relief of the jaw ; how people's 
talk of this mere mechanical excellence used to vex Allston ! " 

The following notice of " Jeremiah," published in the Boston 
Daily Advertiser, September, 1830, gives a good description of the 
picture. 

" I have been to see Mr. Allston's picture of ' Jeremiah.' 
The room was perfectly still, for I was the only visitor. The 
Prophet seemed lost in mysterious communion with the divine 
Being. There was an elevating and solemn impression made up- 
on the mind by this visible yet silent operation of divinity which 
no language of poetry ever gave me a sense of. Never did I feel 
so distinctly the nigh approach of a heavenly power, or contem- 
plate the inward emotions of the soul so entirely abstracted from 
all that is bodily. Jeremiah is a gigantic figure ; yet you do not 
think of him as such, and his size only makes upon you an im- 
pression of power in perfect agreement with his supernatural 
mission, and the sublime energy and resolution shown in the 
character of his attitude and countenance ; the eyes are conceived 
in high poetry. He is looking beyond all earthly things, into 
the infinite distance, and the invisible is made visible to him. 
Yet there is an abstracted inwardness of thought in them, intent 
upon the workings of the prophetic spirit with which he is filled. 
There is a majestic repose in the whole figure, and the right 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 249 

hand raised, while the elbow is resting on a projection of the 
prison wall, seems about to move at the first word of prophecy. 
His head is in a fine style of sublimity, the temples and forehead 
are marked with clear, eloquent veins. Over all this grandeur is 
thrown a calm awe which takes from it everything earthly. 

" Baruch is in natural contrast, seated lower and at a little 
distance from the prophet, full of youthful beauty, and the in- 
clination of the body so graceful and easy ! "With the innocent 
expression of his countenance is mingled a reverence, at the same 
time you perceive that he is expecting the words of the prophet. 
These are the only figures in the picture, except the sentinel in 
the distance ; they are in the court of the prison — the long gal- 
leries, flights of steps, and arches of which are in fine perspect- 
ive. The walls along the passages are colored with great truth, 
and there cannot be anything better than the daylight shining 
upon them. The anatomy of the figures seems perfect. The 
raised arm and fore-shortened foot of the prophet, the out-turned 
foot and right hand of the scribe, all difficult to draw, are to my 
eye without a fault. The prophet's beard and Baruch's hair 
and neck could hardly be surpassed for beauty and truth. The 
drapery is finely folded, perfectly easy and negligent, without 
anything slovenly. We have had nothing to compare with this 
picture for color. It is all harmony, and so rich and deep that 
the eye bathes in it. The simplicity and unity of the picture 
are very obvious, no theatrical effect is aimed at ; I wish I felt at 
liberty to tell Mr. Allston how grateful I am to him for having 
shown me one of the prophets of old, and for having sent me 
away a more thoughtful and religious man." 

The following letter is from Allston to McMurtrie : 

" Cambridgepokt, May 27, 1831. 
"My Dear Sir: I have just received your letter of the 19th 
inst., and agreeably to your request I sit down to reply without 



250 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

delay. I regret, however, that it is not in my power to give you 
available information on the subject of your inquiries. I have 
but a few weeks since been established in my new painting-room, 
which I have built in this place. ' Belshazzar ' has been rolled 
up and reposing in a packing-case for more than three years, in 
consequence of my former large room in Boston passing into 
the hands of a new owner, who has converted it into a livery-sta- 
ble ; since which I have been compelled to work in a small cham- 
ber where I have been employed altogether on small pictures. 
1 Belshazzar ' will still remain for some time to come in its case — 
some embarrassing debts and my immediate necessities being 
the cause. I must be free in mind before I venture to finish it. 
I trust, however, that the time will not be very long. Your room 
which you mention must be a noble one. I wish there was such 
a one in each of our large cities. It is a great desideratum with 
me, as I mean hereafter — that is when I once more become free, 
and should Providence grant me life — to confine myself chiefly to 
large works. 

" I suppose that you know that I have become a benedict. I 
have been married about a year, and this village is now my 
home. It is about two miles from Boston, where I can be at any 
time, by means of an hourly stage, in twenty minutes. I am in 
better health, and certainly in better spirits, than I have been in 
ten years. Believe me, my dear sir, with undiminished regard, 

sincerely yours, 

"Washington Allston." 

Allston's interest in younger artists is attested anew in the 
following entertaining letter to Cogdell : 

" Cambridgeport, July 25, 1831. 
" Dear Cogdell : I mentioned in my last letter to my 
mother, of the 4th inst., that a subject for your chisel had then 
just occurred to me, which I did not name to her, thinking you 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 251 

would be more gratified to have it directly from myself. The 
subject is Hagar and Ishmael, when the latter is about (appar- 
ently) to expire from thirst in the desert. The moment I have 
supposed is just before the appearance of the angel, when she is 
taking the last look of her son, previous to the passage where 
she says, ' Let me not see the death of the child.' Gen. xxi. 16. 
I think a very beautiful as well as touching group may be 
made of this. The head of the child resting on the lap of the 
mother, who is kneeling and slightly bending over him, with the 
head only, not the body ; as the more erect position of the body, 
contrasting with the inclination of the head, would correspond 
with the mixed emotion, or rather conflicting thoughts, within — 
the agony in the thought of seeing him die, and the thought of 
lessening it by the cruel alternative of leaving him. 

" I will mention another subject which also occurs to me as 
not unsuitable to sculpture, ' Hermia and Helena,' from Shake- 
speare's * Mid-Summer Night's Dream,' in whom the singleness 
and unity of friendship is beautifully illustrated. They are de- 
scribed as animated by one soul in their affections, employ- 
ments, and amusements ; working together on one sampler, like 
two twin-cherries growing on one stalk, etc. Perhaps you will 
find some passage in the play that would suggest the action. I 
certainly should not recommend the sampler, which must be, to 
say the least, but an awkward thing to represent in sculpture. I 
painted this subject when in England, and not thinking it essen- 
tial to adhere to the letter, instead of the sampler I made them 
reading together from the same book. I endeavored to give the 
spirit, which is all I would recommend to you in naming the 
subject. With the book, I think they might make a beautiful 
group in sculpture. 

" In a letter to my mother, I expressed my regret in being 
unable to think of any subject for you, and referred you to the 



252 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

catalogues of the Royal Academy and other London exhibi- 
tions, as most likely to furnish you with one. My mother was 
at the time at Waccamaw, but this I did not then know. 

" Will you tell my mother that my nephew, George Elagg, 
arrived here a few days since. He is a fine, manly little fellow. 
It will gratify his grandmother to know that Mrs. A. and myself 
are quite delighted with him. He carries with him in his deli- 
cate and modest manners the appearance of having been well 
brought up, and I find him more intelligent and mature in mind 
than I should have expected in one of his age. So far as I can 
now judge, he has every quality to make a fine artist. 

" I suppose you have learnt through the newspapers, that we 
have had an exhibition here of a group in marble, called the 
' Chanting Cherubs,' by Mr. Greenough, of Boston, who is now 
in Florence. It is one of the most beautiful groups in modern 
art, judging of it not as the work of a young man, but as one of 
matured powers. I think it places the author of it, if not among 
the first, certainly above the second-rate sculptors of the day. 
But when I consider his youth, or rather his limited experience, 
I have no scruples in predicting his speedy elevation to a pedes- 
tal among the very first. In addition to a brilliant, versatile 
genius, Greenough possesses the advantage of a thorough liberal 
education. He was educated at our college, and was not idle 
when there, making himself ere he left it a good classical 
scholar. In general acquirements also I believe there are few 
young men in our country who surpass him. 

" George speaks highly of your bust of Dr. Elliott ; he says 
it is considered the happiest of your works. I hope you will be 
tempted by one of the subjects I have proposed, to show what 
you can do in a work of imagination. If you do not already 
possess them, I should recommend your sending to England for 
the compositions of Elaxman, the sculptor, from Dante and the 
Greek poets. They are all in outline and are worthy of the 






WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 253 

best age of art. I have three volumes of them. They ought to 
be in the library of every artist, whether sculptor or painter. 
The whole of Flaxman's works, I think, may be had for about 
twenty pounds sterling. I am now in my new painting-room, 
which I believe has not its superior in Europe. At present I 
am painting a picture for a gentleman of Carolina. 
" Believe me ever faithfully your friend, 

"Washington Allston." 

The following note from Yerplanck to Allston testifies to the 
latter's success in his friendly efforts in behalf of Vanderlyn. 

u Washington, February 21, 1832. 

" My Deab Sib : Knowing the pleasure it must give you to 
be informed you have rendered an important service to a friend, 
I enclose you a paper containing our little debate about employ- 
ing Vanderlyn, and I can assure you that the testimony to his 
merit which you enabled me to give was what decided the ques- 
tion. The picture would otherwise have been left to be a job 
for somebody or other, according to accident or interest. Van- 
derlyn understands that, limited only to Stuart's head, he has 
carte blanche to give us a magnificent picture. He will visit 
Boston to copy the engraved head. In the meantime the debate 
alone is a happy thing for him which, I trust, he will take advan- 
tage of. 

" "We have also given your friend Greenough an order for a 
pedestrian marble statue of Washington, limiting him only to 
the Houdon face and leaving him free as to everything else. 
We have an excellent committee on this subject, and I hope to 
see our Rotunda adorned by your pencil, and others worthy to 
associate with you under these auspices. 

" Yours truly, 

" G. C. Vekplanck." 



254 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

The following long letter, full of excellent criticism and ad- 
vice to his young friend, is particularly interesting in the part 
that relates to " Belshazzar," giving as it does Allston's own 
feelings about the picture. 

Allston to Gogdell. 

"Cambkidgeport, February 27, 1832. 

"Deab Cogdell: It gives me great pleasure that I can 
bestow sincere praise on your group of Hagar and Ishmael. It 
is decidedly your best work, and much exceeds what I had 
expected ; it really does you great honor. And though it has 
many faults, they are by no means of a kind to outweigh its 
merits. The attitudes of both mother and child are well con- 
ceived, and they group well together. Perhaps, however, the 
group might have been improved had the boy's body been a 
little farther off, and his head resting where it is. I think it 
would have presented a better profile view. But its chief merit 
lies in the general conception and the expression; which are 
certainly the principal points in a work of art. It has indeed 
great power of expression. The helpless extremity of the son 
is very touching, and his physical suffering is affectingly con- 
trasted with that of his mother. She seems to have just said, 
'Let me not see him die,' and to be taking a last look; the 
deep, silent maternal agony of that look is of no common order. 
The calmness of her action, too, is finely conceived; it is the 
effort of one who strives not to look into the fearful future ; who 
stands on the brink of an abyss into which she must fall, but 
will not look. This is indeed great. 

" Now (as I suppose you will wish me to do) I will' point out 
the faults, but you must not be frightened at the list, since they 
are only the faults of inexperience. The principal defect is in 
the disposition of the drapery, the lines of which are too often 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 255 

repeated, and too abrupt ; that is, the folds are too small and 
cut up, instead of being large, varied, and flowing. The hori- 
zontal lines also across the mother's body have an ill effect, and 
disturb the action of the limbs, which should always in sculpt- 
ure be indicated, however faintly, by some slight correspond- 
ence in the folds that drape them. The next is the costume. 
The puffs on the arms and the folds on the breast are 
modern. The sleeves should have been plain — so the drapery 
on the chest. The right shoulder of the boy is out of its 
place; it could not be so far projected without dislocation, 
or breaking the clavicle. The protrusion of his tongue is 
not in good taste, for though this may be physically true of 
one dying of thirst, it is one of those unpleasant truths that 
should be avoided in art. Then you should have given him 
more beauty — I mean of face. The mother's leg is a little too 
short. Of the defect of her raised arm I say nothing, it having 
been injured, as you mentioned, in the casting. These faults, 
however, as I have already observed, are the faults of inexperi- 
ence, and such as more practice and the study of good models 
would very easily enable you to avoid. I would recommend 
your procuring prints from the antique bas-reliefs of Greece and 
Kome ; the Admiranda Eomanorum of Santo Bartoli, and 
Lope's Grecian Costume. The first perhaps could not be had 
except from Italy ; the last you will get from England. These 
would be of great use to you as to costume as well as for other 
things ; a week's study of them would let you into the whole 
mystery of sculpture drapery. 

" Now, after this praise, will you allow me, my friend, to say 
a few words of a prudential nature. Do not let it tempt you to 
give up a certainty for an uncertainty. I say this because my 
nephew informs me that when he left Carolina, you talked, as 
he had heard, of going to Italy, to make art your profession ; 
if so, you must of course give up your office at the Custom 



256 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

House, which, if I understand you aright, is now your principal 
means of support. You remember that some years ago you ap- 
plied to me for my opinion on this subject, and that I made no 
reply, and for this reason (which I supposed from your subse- 
quent letters you understood), because I shrunk from the respon- 
sibility. But I ought not to have shrunk from it ; my con- 
science soon told me so ; and I had made up my mind to give 
it without reserve and should long since have given it, had I not 
concluded, from your continued silence on the subject, that you 
had given up the intention. I will, however, no longer delay 
this discharge of my duty ; and do it now the more readily, as 
after the high praise I have bestowed on your last work, you 
cannot impute it to any doubt of your talents. What I am 
about to say, however, I do not give in the shape of advice ; for 
I as much dislike giving advice as asking it ; and I never ask it 
in my personal concerns, except in some extreme case, where I 
find it impossible to decide for myself; and such have very 
rarely occurred. I shall merely express my opinion on the sub- 
ject, leaving you to weigh it as you think fit, and to decide for 
yourself. 

"If by making the art your profession you are to depend on 
it as the means of support for yourself and family, I cannot but 
think that you look to a very precarious source. What may be 
the prospects of employment from private individuals you can 
judge as well as I, and I no better than you, for I can have no 
definite knowledge as to it unless I were myself a sculptor. It 
has often, however, been doubted by Greenough's friends here, 
notwithstanding the high and general estimation in which he 
stands as well for his private character as for his talents, whether 
he will be able to support himself in Boston from private em- 
ployment alone. And if Boston cannot afford him sufficient, I 
know not in what other city of the Union he can expect it. His 
resource, they think, must be at Washington, in works for the 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 257 

Government, or in Europe. Indeed, it seems to be the opinion 
of most persons that I have heard speak of the subject, that em- 
ployment for the General Government is the only hope for a 
sculptor who is to live by his profession in our country. And 
whether it is that people have been but little accustomed to it, 
or from some other cause, so far as I have observed, the interest 
taken in sculpture is by no means so general as that taken in 
pictures. Then the prices which a sculptor must charge, even 
to defray his expenses, are such as very few in our country are 
either able or willing to give for works of art. So I do not see 
much prospect even of a bare support, unless he is content to 
confine himself to busts that are portraits. But even supposing 
there were sufficient demand for sculpture, are you prepared to 
coin your brain for bread — at all times and under all circum- 
stances, of depression, of illness, and the numberless harass- 
ments of unavoidable debt ? To produce an original work of the 
imagination, requiring of all human efforts a pleasurable state 
of the mind, with a dunning letter staring you in the face? 
With an honest heart yearning to give everyone his due, and an 
empty purse, I know from bitter experience that the fairest 
visions of the imagination vanish like dreams never to be re- 
called, before the daylight reality of such a visitor. Poverty is 
no doubt a stimulus to general industry, and to many kinds of 
mental effort, but not to the imagination; for the imagination 
must be abortive — is a nonentity — if it have not peace as its im- 
mediate condition. Pictures that would have otherwise brought 
me hundreds, not to say thousands, have crumbled into nothing 
under its pressure, and been thrown aside as nothing worth. I 
say these things not querulously (for I have an utter dislike to 
all complaining, and never allow myself in it), but that you 
might know what it is to be an artist by profession, with no 
other income than the product of the brain — which, to be at all 
available, must at least be at peace. And I give them in their 
17 



258 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

naked reality solely from a conscientious regard for your peace 
and happiness as a man. The love I bear my art you well know ; 
no one could love it more ; and I have given proof of it in the 
sacrifice I have made to it of my fortune. And yet, with all this 
love, which I still bear it, I thus speak of it as a profession. 
Because I must speak the truth. But, understand me, when I 
speak of it thus as a profession, it is when that profession is as- 
sociated with poverty. With a competence, however small, so it 
be sufficient to secure me from debt, from demands that I can- 
not satisfy wlien due — then, of all professions, it is that which I 
would still choose. But debt is slavery. And his mind must be 
free who aspires to anything great in the art. If you have a 
competence, then I should say, as I once said before your un- 
fortunate loss of property, follow your inclinations. But your 
case is still a happy one, though art is not your profession ; for 
it may still be your employment ; and it is the employment, 
after all, in which its pleasure consists ; this I firmly believe. 
Your office allows you, I suppose, the half of each day to your- 
self, and secures to you the means of devoting a moiety of the 
year to the pursuit of the art, in the way you like best, and in- 
dependent of the world. Ah, that word independent has a charm 
which I well know how to value, from having known its reverse. 
But I still have hope, and I look for repossession of it yet. 

" In your letter preceding the last one there was a passage, 
toward the conclusion, which gave me more pain than, I am 
sure, you would willingly have afflicted ; and I should have felt 
it most deeply had I not ascribed it to inadvertence, and to your 
not having considered the full import of certain expressions. I 
am certain you would not have written them had you reflected a 
moment on the construction they might bear. The passage is 
this : Speaking of the ' Belshazzar,' you say : ' Your picture 
ought to have been delivered years ago, and that hundreds near 
me think so, though they do not say it, lest they should wound 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 259 

me ; ' and you advise me ' to think of this matter with serious- 
ness.' 

" Now, my friend, I do in my heart acquit you of all inten- 
tion of giving me pain ; for you immediately add ' that it is not 
in your heart to wound me ; ' I fully believe this. But let me 
ask you one question. Do you believe that it has been in my 
power to finish ' Belshazzar ? ' Your words ' ought to have been 
delivered years ago ' certainly imply the affirmative ; conse- 
quently, that it is still unfinished is because I would not finish it, 
when I might if I had so chosen. If this were the case, I could 
not be (what I know myself to be) an honorable man ; for I have 
repeatedly declared it to be my earnest intention and desire to 
finish it as soon as it was in my power. Then you advise me to 
think of it seriously. Does not this imply that I have intention- 
ally neglected it ? Certainly it seems to ; for how else could I 
need to be reminded of so important a contract ; that could not 
have been put aside in the memory, except intentionally. It 
was this that hurt me, that anyone should think that I could, yet 
would not, fulfil a solemn contract ; that I had neglected the per- 
formance of it as soon as it was in my power, and needed to be 
reminded of my duty. But this, as I have before said, I am 
sure you never could have meant. No, Cogdell — I say it not in 
pride, but in the simple consciousness of integrity — I am one of 
the last men in the world to whom such moral delinquency can 
be justly imputed. And (though I sincerely believe that you do 
not require such assurance) I here assure you, on the word of a 
gentleman, and what is more, of an honest man, that it has not 
been in my power to finish ' Belshazzar,' and that it still remains 
in its case from absolute necessity. Ever since I entered into 
the contract with my subscribers it has been my paramount ob- 
ject to fulfil it ; all my efforts in subsequent works have had that 
j for their ultimate end ; to extricate myself from embarrassments. 
(Here is a sample : It was but four days after the receipt of your 



260 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

letter, to which I am now replying, that I received a letter from 
a collecting attorney requiring payment of a debt of more than 
seven hundred dollars, and all the money I had was five dollars 
and a quarter.) Over my wife's property I have no control, that 
being in the care of trustees, and her income seldom exceeds 
four hundred dollars ; which (as repeated experience has taught 
me) rendered it morally impossible for me to do justice either to 
myself or my subscribers. I have had no other view in anything 
I have done ; and my personal history, were it known, would 
bear me out in this to the letter. 

" But no one has a right to inquire into my private troubles ; 
I trust my word is sufficient. I will only add that, though the 
efforts alluded to have not effected their end so soon as I had al- 
lowed myself to anticipate, they have yet released me from some 
of my sorest difficulties. In plainer words, I am getting out of 
debt. Some heavy and importunate debts, however, still remain : 
and these I am daily laboring to discharge as I have the others ; 
that done I shall be free. And it is my fixed resolution not to 
touch ' Belshazzar ' till I am so. Should I attempt it now, it 
would be to no purpose, except perhaps, to ruin it. If labor 
could have done it, the mental as well as manual labor already 
bestowed on it were sufficient to have completed five such pic- 
tures. I alone know what I can and cannot do. 'Tis only with 
a free mind that I can do justice to my engagement. 

" With respect to remarks on me by the world, I shall en- 
deavor to bear them with what philosophy I can muster. I have 
lived long enough to know that, let a man act as conscientiously 
as he will, he will not escape censure. But my private affairs 
surely are no concern of theirs. I am not a pensioner of the 
public. Do not then trouble yourself to ' defend me.' All that I 
would have anyone say in my behalf (if indeed anything) is, that 
in a life of more than fifty years I have never wronged any man 
out of a dollar, and that I do not intend to do it now. I hold 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 261 

myself amenable only to my subscribers, and none of them, to 
my knowledge, have complained. Should anyone of them, how- 
ever, think himself aggrieved, feel impatient, or be from any 
cause dissatisfied with the delay, I would most cheerfully, and 
without an unpleasant feeling, release him from his engagement ; 
and if it be one who has advanced his share, I will repay it with 
the interest, as soon as in my power, from the proceeds of my 
present labors. I speak in sincerity, when I say that I would 
most willingly do this, and without a particle of resentment. 
Nay, I should even take it as a kindness, if there be any so dis- 
posed, that he or they would consent to this course, since it 
would be to me a great relief ; for I have never ceased to regret 
that I ever allowed myself to receive any advance on the picture. 

" It has always, from the first, been my intention on deliver- 
ing the picture to pay the interest on every advancement. No 
one has ever yet lost a quarter of a dollar by me, and if my life 
and health are spared no one ever shall. 

" Should you see my mother, give her my love and tell her 
that I intend to write to her in a few days. George is getting 
on as well as could be wished in Boston. Pray tell his grand- 
mother that he comes out very often to see us. He is one of the 
finest boys I have ever known ; everyone loves him. Mrs. All- 
ston unites with me in best regards to Mrs. Cogdell and yourself. 
"I remain sincerely your friend, 

" W. Allston." 

The following is from Yerplanck to Allston : 

* ' Fishkill Landing, July 25, 1832. 
" My Deak Sie : I send you a New York literary paper con- 
taining Mr. Livingston's official letter to your friend Greenough 
on the subject of the statue of Washington. You must allow 
that our Committee on Public Buildings at Washington (that is 
to say, your friend Jarvis, your neighbor Gen. Dearborn, and my- 



262 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

self, for the others cared little about the matter), if we have not 
done much, have done well what we have done in employing your 
friends Yanderlyn and Greenough, and on liberal terms. I was 
two or three days in New York last week, on my return from 
Washington, and found it in a melancholy state. The chief 
ravages of the cholera are as yet confined to the most worthless 
and minor part of our population, yet there are many exceptions 
which spread alarm, and the stagnation of business brings great 
distress on the industrious poor. The character and habits of 
those upon whom the disease has mainly preyed upon, however, 
gives me great hope that it will not spread its devastation unduly 
throughout our country. It is still a terrible calamity. Irving 
was with us at Washington and looks wonderfully well, indeed 
quite unaltered since I saw him in England in 1817, though 
changed to those who recollect only his sallow and thin Ameri- 
can face. He is now wandering about among his friends in this 
State, and I hope soon to see him again." 






CHAPTEK XXI. 

LETTEE FEOM EDWARD EYEEETT. — CORRESPONDENCE IN RELATION TO 
PAINTING: AN HISTORICAL PICTURE FOR SOUTH CAROLINA. — LET- 
TERS TO SULLY, LESLIE, AND J. MASON. — LETTER TO LEONARD 
JARYTS ON GREENOUGH'S STATUE OE WASHINGTON. 

We have in the subjoined letters a communication between a 
committee of three gentlemen of Charleston, S. C, and Hon. 
Edward Everett, of Boston, in reference to securing an historical 
picture from Allston. Mr. Everett, in a letter to K. H. Dana, 
relates his part of the transaction as follows : 

11 London, August 30, 1843. 

" Dear Sir : I received this morning your letter of the 14th 
inst., and I cheerfully comply with your request. . . . Some 
ten years ago, I think it must have been, I received a letter from 
Charleston, S. C, requesting me to apply to Mr. Allston to paint 
an historical picture for an association in that city. 

" The subject of the picture was to be the unfurling of the 
American flag by the United States Minister at Mexico, from 
the window of his house, when he was about to be attacked by 
an armed mob. The picture was to be one of the largest size, 
there was no limitation of price, and I think it was mentioned 
as a circumstance which might have its effect in inducing Mr. 
Allston to undertake it, that it was for his native city. 

" I waited upon Mr. Allston, at Cambridge, to communicate 
to him the purport of the letter, which he received with cour- 
tesy. He excused himself, however, from undertaking the com- 
mission upon these grounds : that he felt it his duty to devote 



264 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

his time as exclusively as possible to the great work that he had 
so long had on hand ; the other, that, even if he felt at liberty 
to begin another large picture, the subject of the proposed work, 
which was of the nature of a battle-piece, was a branch which he 
had not cultivated, and did not feel prepared to undertake. I 
do not remember going a second time to Cambridge, though I 
may have done so ; or I may have mentioned the subject again 
to Mr. Allston, on meeting him elsewhere. This is all I can 
recollect with distinctness on the subject. Of course, I cannot 
contradict the statement of any gentleman who has a clear 
recollection of any additional facts as coming from me. I am 
pretty sure the application was first made to Mr. Allston, by 
means of a letter to me. I think it was a year or two before I 
was Governor. It proceeded from a gentleman of the ' Union 
Party,' of which General Hamilton was not a member. It was, 
I understood, intended for a public use General Hamilton 
would not, at that time, have been disposed to promote. . . . 
The picture being for a specific purpose, there was of course no 
discretion as to the subject. 

"My recollection of Mr. Allston's manner, when I waited 
upon him, is, except as I have described it above, indistinct. He 
may have spoken with earnestness and emphasis, though I think 
that was not his habit ; but there was nothing in the proposal to 
affect him disagreeably ; it seems scarcely possible that he, the 
mildest and gentlest of men, could have received it in any other 
than a mild and gentle manner. . . . No man regarded Mr. 
Allston with warmer admiration than myself ; no one out of his 
family circle more tenderly cherishes his memory. 
" I am, dear sir, very respectfully yours, 

"Edward Everett." 

It is notable that the communication was not made directly 
to Allston, but through such a man as Mr. Everett, who was 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 265 

shortly after elected Governor of his State. There was doubt 
as to whether Allston could be induced to undertake the work, 
and as Mr. Everett was an influential friend, the committee had 
recourse to him, as one who would present their commission 
with the best prospect of its acceptance. This solicitude on the 
part of the committee indicates the success awaiting Allston, 
and that he might have been free from pecuniary embarrassment 
but for ' Belshazzar.' Following is the letter of the committee : 

"Charleston, April 9, 1833. 
" Deae Sib : The enclosed statement concerns the circum- 
stances under which our national flag was unfurled by the 
American Ambassador at Mexico. It is intended that they 
should furnish material for a national painting ; the object is to 
spread before the eyes of our countrymen, and particularly of 
the rising generation, the unseen but highly moral protection 
afforded by a great, because united, people. Though it is diffi- 
cult for the mind to calculate the value of the Union, yet the 
hand of a master may successfully exhibit, at a single glance, 
that national protection, which, like the pressure of the atmos- 
phere, though omnipotent and powerful, is neither seen nor felt. 
The sectional excitement at present existing among the States 
obliterating national feelings, these must be revived ; the arts 
are powerful in their operation, and lasting in their effects. We 
must have national paintings, national songs, national celebra- 
tions to excite and perpetuate national enthusiasm. The flag 
of every country is its emblem. It should command respect 
abroad, adoration at home. The man who loves and reveres not 
his country's flag is prepared to violate her laws, and destroy 
her Constitution. It is our object to have the Star Spangled 
Banner portrayed in the act of overawing, in a foreign land, an 
infuriated and lawless soldiery ; and of protecting from revolu- 
tionary violence the objects of political hatred. To have this 



266 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

scene engraved is also our object. That the flag of our coun- 
try may wave in every house, in every cottage, even in every 
log-house beyond the mountains. That our children may learn 
before they can read, to love and reverence the emblem of our 
country's power, and may realize that it is their guardian and 
protector, not only on their native soil, but in a land of 
strangers. 

"It is particularly wished that the painting and engraving 
should be finished at the shortest time consistent with their 
proper execution. You will therefore confer a favor by inform- 
ing us whether you can undertake to carry our wishes into effect 
within that time, and on what terms. If you can also engage to 
have the painting engraved you will oblige us, at an early day, 
with your views upon the subject. 

" Respectfully, your obedient servants, 

"William Dkayton, 
"D. E. Hugee, 
"Benjamin E. Pepoon, 

" Committee.'" 

The chairman of the committee, Mr. William Drayton, was 
the gentleman who purchased Allston's picture of the " Cavern 
Scene from Gil Bias," in London, in 1814. Allston's reply 
was as follows : 

" Gentlemen : Your letter was handed me a few days since 
by the Honorable E. Everett. It has caused me both gratifica- 
tion and regret. To be thus remembered by gentlemen of my 
native State awakens many pleasing sensations within me, min- 
gled with sorrow for the sad occasion which has induced you 
to honor me with the proposed commission. Strong as my at- 
tachment is to the State of my birth and childhood, I entirely 
sympathize in your feelings of pride and patriotism toward 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 267 

our common country ; and I see also, as you must, that the 
safety and dignity of each individual State depends upon the 
union of all. 

" There is no act of my life that would give me such heart- 
felt satisfaction as that of having done something toward 
strengthening the patriotism of my countrymen, and arousing 
once more in them the feeling that we are one people. 

" I am, however, gentlemen, compelled to forego this, and to 
decline the commission with which you have honored me. I 
have imperative engagements upon me that must be fulfilled ; 
and I could not, without absolute injustice, enter upon a work so 
important as that proposed by you, till those are completed for 
which I have some time stood pledged. While I deeply regret 
that it is out of my power to comply with your wishes, I doubt 
not that there are others at liberty, who can carry your wishes 
into effect, and while they accomplish something for the Union, 
will add to the fame of our country in the fine arts. 
" With great respect, gentlemen, 

" Your obedient servant, 

"Washington Allston. 

" In sending the enclosed you will permit me to say it is my 
request that it be not published ; not because I shrink from any 
odium which the declaration of my opinion respecting the pres- 
ent state of our country might bring upon me, but from an 
aversion which I have had ever, of unnecessarily appearing 
before the public. 

" Though my lot in life has been cast in other lands, I have 
never forgotten that of my birth. I cannot therefore but attach 
a peculiar value to any mark of regard from that portion of my 
country ; and I beg to repeat to you individually, that I do most 
sincerely appreciate it in the present instance. And allow me, 
sir, also to say, that it adds not a little to my gratification to 
find myself indebted for this valued distinction to one, among 



268 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

others, whose personal acquaintance, though short and long 
past, still retains a pleasant freshness in my memory." 

An interesting suggestion in regard to the influence of water- 
color practice on Turner is contained in the following letter to 

Sully: 

" Cambmdgeport, April 11, 1833. 

" My Dear Sully : Your letter on Hay don's picture, which 
I saw extracted from TJie National Gazette, does you honor both 
as an artist and as a man. The ' Entrance into Jerusalem ' is 
indeed a magnificent work of art. Where the excellence is of 
so high an order, and the beauties so numerous, I should think 
myself but poorly employed were I disposed to dwell on its 
faults. I could overlook them all for the sake of its merits. 
'Tis a glorious picture ! If Mr. McMurtrie (to whom I beg to 
be particularly remembered) should write to Haydon, pray ask 
him to let Haydon know how much I admire it. 

" Pray, have you ever painted a picture from the water-color 
sketch which I so much admired ? I mean the ' Mother and 
Child.' If you have not and intend it, will you allow me to 
advise your copying the sketch as closely as possible as to the 
color. I think you will be surprised to find how transparent and 
silvery an exact imitation of it in oil will be. I am certain that 
Turner, perhaps also Calcott, owe not a little of the richness of 
their tone to the circumstance of their having commenced as 
painters in water-color. The foil of the white paper to which 
their eyes were accustomed, was the secret. To imitate this in 
oil requires not merely a high key-note, but a powerful impasto 
and great clearness of tint. Should you make the experiment, 
let me caution you against improving on the sketch ; if you do, 
I venture to predict that your labor will be lost. Try to hit the 
precise tone, especially in the shadows. 

" Your sincere friend, 

"W. Allston." 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 269 

The following brief letters from Allston to Cogdell, written 
at this time, show characteristic traits of the writer : 

" Cambkidgeport, October 9, 1833. 

" Deae Cogdell : I have been thinking of writing to you for 
several days past to thank you, as I ought long since to have 
done, for your bust of Mr. Elliott. I suppose you know it was 
exhibited in the Athenseura Gallery; it was well placed on a 
table in the centre of the room. I beg you now to accept my 
best thanks for it. It is a work that does you great honor. In 
execution it is much superior to your preceding models ; and I 
should think, from its strongly marked character, it must be an 
excellent likeness. 

" I sent you lately, in a letter to my mother, a message con- 
cerning it, together with my thanks, that it has been much ad- 
mired by those I have heard speak of it, and those good judges. 
What do you say to my presenting it to the Athenaeum? I 
mean in my name. You must not think that I do not value it 
by my making this proposal. I make it because I think it will 
be of more advantage to you there than in my room, where few 
people will see it. A work of art always tells better (to use a 
cant, but expressive, word) in a public institution than in a pri- 
vate house. This proposal here brings to mind a plan you some 
time since mentioned respecting your marble bust of Washing- 
ton, when completed ; that you wished it presented to the Athe- 
naeum in my name. When you consider that a marble bust is 
a thing of no trifling value, would it not come with a better 
grace from the artist himself ? I think it would ; and be better 
received ; and so think two of my friends on whose judgment I 
rely. If you think otherwise, however, I will with pleasure do 
as you wish. 

" I have had a pleasant visit from Fraser ; he brought with 
him several landscapes that do him honor. I do not think Miss 



270 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Gibbs would be willing to let ' Jeremiah ' go to Charleston ; she 
declined lending it a second time to the Athenaeum. 

" Your sincere friend, 

"W. Allston." 

11 Cambridgeport, October 25, 1833. 

" Deae Cogdell : I thank you for your kindness to my 
mother, of which she made grateful mention in her reply to my 
last letter. I beg you also to accept my thanks for your kind 
invitation to me. But you are little aware what an impossible 
thing you propose when you speak of my passing the winter in 
Charleston ; I am not master of my time, nor indeed of anything 
else, nor shall I be until I have discharged all my obligations. 
It is always a painful thing to me to speak of my personal con- 
cerns ; indeed I never allude to them if I can avoid it. So I will 
spare both you and myself the unpleasant subject. All I can 
therefore say is, that I regret I have not the power to accept 
your friendly offer. 

" I was glad to hear that White had got a comfortable place 

in the Custom House. His friend Dana and myself were greatly 

disappointed in not finding a sale for his picture. We were 

about to get up a raffle for it when we found even that avenue 

closed to us ; for it seems that the State Legislature had passed 

a law last winter against lotteries of all kinds, specifying even 

raffles. 

" Your sincere friend, 

"W. Allston." 

On the occasion of Leslie's brief visit to this country, Allston 
wrote him the following letter of welcome : 

" Cambridgeport, November 6, 1833. 
" Deae Leslie : As I suppose you well know, increase of 
years has failed to impress me with a better sense than I for- 
merly had of the charms of letter writing, and I do not mean to 



Dido and Anna. 

From the original sketch in the Boston Museum of Art. 



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WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 271 

write a letter now. But I cannot deny myself the gratification 
of sending you a line, to congratulate you on your safe arrival 
and to welcome you among us. I have no friend to whom I can 
more heartily say, right welcome. Pray present my best regards 
to your wife and children, whom I am predisposed to like on 
your account, and whom I have no doubt I shall like when I see 
them on their own. My wife, who better knows you by your let- 
ters, than yours can me by mine, joins me in this. I regret that 
a visit now to New York is to me among the minor impossibili- 
ties : for gold I have none, and all the silver I have is on my head. 

"Faithfully yours, 

"W. Allston." 

In December, 1833, Allston wrote in a letter to J. Mason : 
" I have just had a pressing demand made on me by my coal 
merchant, and a smaller one, equally as urgent, both together 
amounting to about one hundred and fifty dollars, which I wish 
to settle immediately, but which I have no means of doing until 
Mr. Phillips's picture is finished. Do you think that your 
brother Powell, who is agent for Mr. P. during his absence in 
Europe, would feel at liberty to advance that sum out of what 
would be due on completion of the picture ? " 

Concerning this and other pressure of the kind upon Allston, 
Dana makes the following memoranda : " ' The Angel over Jeru- 
salem ' was, I think, the picture he was painting for Mr. Phillips ; 
if it was not that, it was the ' Death of King John.' Mr. P. had 
at a former time, when Allston was greatly pressed, let him have, 
I think it was $500, and Allston was to paint him a picture 
when he could. No one knows the misery of mind this whole 
affair cost him, nor the time it lost him. I have a perfect con- 
viction that it hastened his death, that what he then endured 
stimulated his disease. What wretchedness have I witnessed 
when he was struggling to go on with it, and from distress of 



272 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

mind could not. 'Isaac of York,' belonging to the Boston Athe- 
naeum, he painted in a very short time, I forget how many days. 
Allston said also that he hit upon the name of the picture after 
it was painted. From Allston's letter to Mason, I gather that it 
was sold to the Athenaeum very soon after it was finished. The 
Committee of Fine Arts, Athenaeum, afterward applied through 
William T. Andrews to know whether Allston would consent to 
have ' Isaac of York ' engraved by young Morse, of Boston. 

" What was the sum he first set upon his exquisite picture 
of ' The Troubadour,' I forget, but no one was found with taste 
enough to purchase it at the time. In the letter to Mason of 
December 27, 1833, he says : ' Should anyone now offer me $300 
for " The Troubadour," I would sell it for that sum. I have, how- 
ever, given up all hope of selling it, so that I cannot be disap- 
pointed if it does not sell at this price.' 

" Two months later he wrote again to the same gentleman, 
1 I am so much pushed that I have come to the conclusion to 
lower the price of " The Troubadour " to $280, and if that can't 
be obtained to $250, but am resolved to keep it if that cannot 
be obtained. Please do not delay to offer it for the lowest sum 
if the first cannot be obtained, as I am so sadly pressed.' 

" Distress for money at last drove him to part with it for $70 
or $80." 

This letter from Allston to his classmate, Leonard Jarvis, 
then a member of Congress, upon the subject of Greenough's 
design for his statue of Washington to be placed in the Capitol, 
contains suggestions and opinions interesting to artists, and 
especially sculptors. 

" Cambbidgeport, June 19, 1834. 
' Dear Jarvis : I have received yours of the 6th inst., and 
thank you for your considerate kindness in leaving me to reply 
to it or not, as I like. This is indeed a kindness to one who has 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 273 

about as much, sympathy with letters (when he has to write 
them) as a mad dog with water. On this occasion, however, it 
is my duty to write. 

" You have described the design of the statue so minutely, 
that I think I can form as accurate an opinion of it as if I had 
the drawing before me. I agree with you in every particular of 
your criticism ; and so does E. T. D. and R. H. D., to whom I 
showed your description. We were all three struck, as you 
were, with the inappropriateness of the raised arm. We were 
also of the same mind respecting the idealizing of Washington. 
Now, how to unidealize, without changing the present general 
design, hie labor. It can, however, be done ; but it must be 
done by the artist himself — nay it should not be done by any 
other person; and I am the last man who would dictate to a 
brother artist ; neither my principles nor disposition would 
allow me to do it, especially to one of Greenough's genius. All 
that can be done, or at least that I am willing to do, is to throw 
out suggestions, leaving the adoption or modification of them 
entirely to him. This appears to me not only the most delicate, 
but indeed the only efficient, course, for no man of genius ever 
worked successfully from the mere dictation of another. He 
must coincide with and enter into the spirit of the change pro- 
posed, or his work will not be of a piece. Should Greenough 
so enter into it, and there is no reason to suppose that, weigh- 
ing the objections to his present design, he will not, I have the 
most thorough confidence in his success. 

" As the opinion of the world, that is, of the competent 
judges in it, seems to be pretty nearly balanced on the subject 
of costume — as many preferring the ancient as the modern, I 
shall offer no advice on this point, and for two reasons : first, 
because I would not take upon myself the responsibility of de- 
ciding for another artist on a subject where good judges dis- 
agree, and secondly, because Mr. Greenough has already decided 
18 



274 WASHINGTON- ALLSTON 

for himself. I will, however, standing neutral on this question, 
make a general remark or two, on both that may be of use in 
either case ; the subject being the statue of any distinguished 
person, of or near our own time. Supposing the ancient to be 
adopted, all minutise and peculiarities belonging to a particular 
age or country — in other words, whatever tends to remove the 
subject from his own age to another, should, I think, be avoided. 
To adopt a distinction of Sir Joshua Reynolds, it should be 
clothed with drapery, and not in an antique dress. 

" The Greek and Roman helmet, cuirass, etc., also, from the 
peculiar manner in which it is folded, the Roman toga, belong to 
what is here meant by dress. If the modern be adopted, though 
it must, as modern, be of necessity identified with our own age, 
it should still be of so general a character as not to fix the mind 
upon the fashion of any particular time in it. Under the head 
of fashion I would class bag-wigs, wigs, queues, frizzed hair, 
flapped waistcoats, bag-sleeves, etc. 

" How far the ancient costume may be adopted without im- 
pairing the individuality of the subject, is more than I can say : 
that can only be shown by the skill of the sculptor ; as to the 
other question, how the prescribed and scanty form of a modern 
dress can be managed with grandeur, that also must be left to 
his skill. The general objection of artists to the modern dress is 
its meagreness, as not admitting of those masses so essential to a 
grand effect. In general this is true, but there are some excep- 
tions ; for instance the military cloak, which, without violation 
of its character (I use this word technically) may be used for all 
the purposes of drapery, admitting of equal breadth and mass 
with the ancient mantle. But the costume in the statue of a 
great modern seems to me essentially secondary. The character 
of the man is, and should be, the principal thing. If this be 
true, it necessarily limits the artist in his conception. What- 
ever ideas he may have of grandeur or majesty, if they do not 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 275 

belong to his original, they can have no propriety in his statue. 
He depends on his subject for all the grandeur that is admissi- 
ble. But if his subject should happen to be of mean appear- 
ance? There is then but one alternative, to make the best of 
a mean person, or not attempt it ; for a noble figure would not 
represent that person, but his proxy. 

" In the present case, however, the artist has no such difficulty 
to contend with, for his original (I mean Washington) was not 
only great in mind, but of a noble countenance and majestic 
stature. Perhaps in all history a grander subject for a portrait 
statue could not be found ; for what attitude could be too digni- 
fied, what air too grand for "Washington ? Dignity and majesty 
were his personal attributes. With a slight modification, I do 
not see but that the present attitude which Greenough has 
chosen might be retained with propriety. Bating the raised 
arm, it seems to me (as you have described it) a dignified one. 

" My notion of the statue of a great modern who has actually 
lived, is, in a few words, this : It should not bring the person 
before us as an active agent, but simply as the man whose deeds 
and virtues have passed into history, and who is already known 
to us by his deeds and virtues. To this effect, the most perfect 
repose seems to me essential in Washington, especially (no con- 
scious action should break it), whose name alone fills the mind 
with his history. If any man can be said to repose in the ful- 
ness of his glory, it is he ; for nothing in his great mission has 
been left imperfect ; all has been done, and is in the past. We 
need alone the man as a visible object of our love and veneration. 

" Should this notion be approved and adopted by Greenough, 
there needs but a slight alteration, as I have already observed, 
as far as concerns the attitude, to realize it ; and that is (the al- 
teration) to give rest to the uplifted hand and arm. I mean to 
bring the hand down, so as to rest on some part of his person, or 
on the chair. I know not that the hand which holds the sword 



276 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

need be altered, but I doubt the propriety of the antique sword. 
A scroll would answer for the composition quite as well, besides 
being more appropriate. Here I beg it to be distinctly under- 
stood that I abstain, for the reasons given, from any decision re- 
specting the costume. If, however, the present be retained, I 
am clear that the breast and arms should be draped ; which 
might well be done by a close tunic with sleeves. 

" If you have not already done so, I beg you will show to Mr. 
McLane that part of my first letter relating to ' Medora.' And, 
since he is pleased to attach some value to my opinion, I wish 
you also to say to him that, notwithstanding the objections to 
the present design, I have no distrust whatever in Mr. G's ability 
to produce a statue that will do honor to the country. The clas- 
sic atmosphere in which he has so long lived has, perhaps, and 
very naturally, biassed his judgment in this instance ; but that 
he can conceive equally well in another way I have no doubt ; and 
that, when he shall have distinctly understood what is desired, 
he will so modify his design as to give satisfaction, I have the 
most entire confidence. I know Greenough well, and if I know 
what genius is, he possesses as much of it as any sculptor living. 
His natural powers are of no common order, and he has cul- 
tivated them by a severe course of study. He is no tyro, nor 
random flourisher, but a well-grounded scholar in his art. To 
this I shall only add, that I have been conscientious in every 
word I have written. On such an occasion I would not give my 
best friend one tittle more of praise than he deserved. You say 
that as a work of art the ' design ' is worthy of praise, etc. I 
should have been disappointed if you had not found it so, still 
more if you had not liked the ' Medora.' I particularly request 
that this letter may not be suffered to get into the newspapers. 
I have no objection that a copy of this letter be sent to Mr. G., 
but it must be sent entire and verbatim, and provided that he be 
informed that it is done with my consent." 






CHAPTEK XXII. 

VINDICATION OF ALLSTON AGAINST ACCUSATIONS OF INDOLENCE. — 
EXTEACT FKOM DRAFT OF A LETTER FROM ALLSTON TO DUNLAP. — 
EXTRACT FROM MEMORANDA OF R. H. DANA, SR. 

In Dunlap's " History of the Arts of Design," published in 
1834, we have sketches of lives of American artists up to that 
time. This book, though defective in many respects, and open 
to criticism, is, nevertheless, a valuable contribution to the his- 
tory of art in America. Among its salient points are statements 
and inferential allusions giving color to accusations of idleness 
which, with no foundation in truth, were made against Allston. 
Allston, by request, contributed much interesting material for 
the sketch of his life, and had Dunlap added nothing to that 
material, we should have all that need be in a book purport- 
ing to give nothing more than brief outline biographies. "When 
the book appeared, Allston was much disturbed by its state- 
ments and inferences touching his personal habits. In a copy of 
Dunlap's work, presented to Allston by the author, was recently 
found the subjoined portion of the " rough " of a letter, written 
in vindication of himself against the unjust allusions referred to. 
We give it without the slightest revision or alteration : 

"Mem. wrote to Mr. Dunlap, March W, 1835." 

" At present I will only point out one — the only important 
one — which is contained in the last paragraph but one, which 
contains but only two grains of truth ; namely, that I smoked 



278 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

and sat up late ; the rest, that is, what is supposed to have been 
connected with these habits, is not true. You must not think 
that I am here wincing at the mention of my faults. I know 
that I have faults enough and to spare, and what is more, I have 
long learned to bear the mention of them. But the fault im- 
puted to me by inference, in this paragraph, is really not mine. 
The passage which I allude to as giving a false impression of me 
is this : ' that the time he threw away in smoking his cigar, and 
delighting his friends with conversation and delightful stories, 
should have been employed in keeping up by a succession of 
efforts the name he had obtained.' 

" Now, the inference drawn from this is, that I was an idler, 
wasting my time in company continuously. I cannot take that 
to myself. I was then, and am still, a very different man. Next 
to what is vicious, there is no character more offensive to me, or 
one that I would most strenuously avoid realizing in my own 
person, than a company-loving idler. So far from wasting time 
in company, my friends both in England and here have often 
complained that I did not go into it enough. I would not be an 
excuser of late hours. My late hours were spent not in company, 
but in solitary study : in reading, often in sketching, or in other 
studies connected with my art. 

" As to general company, it always was and is to this day irk- 
some to me. And though I take great pleasure in the society 
of my friends, my visits among them have always been rare, and 
from choice. Nay, it is the very rareness of these visits that 
sometimes makes them so pleasant — bringing out what is most 
pleasant in myself. Strangers who have seen me with my 
friends, and observed the zest with which I enjoyed conversa- 
tion, have probably been misled by it, and set me down as one 
who must needs prefer it to labor. You, indeed, have judged 
me truly when you say that such ' minds are never idle.' With- 
out assuming tl;e compliment implied, I may say that mine is so 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 279 

constituted that I could not be idle for six months and continue 
sane. Either that or my hands are always at work. 

" But much as I love the interchange of mind with the liter- 
ary and intellectual, still more do I love my art. I have never 
found the labor in it irksome, though often plied in misery and 
abortive : for when I have been most wretched, and consequently 
working to no purpose, it has still been to me an unchangeable 
friend. Although it is not natural for any man to desire the ex- 
posure of his faults, yet I am not one who would gainsay what 
is true, though it be against me." 

At the Ferme St. Simeon, at Honfleur, France, a favorite 
summer resort of artists, the celebrated Charles Daubigny was 
met by a young American art student, in whom he became suffi- 
ciently interested to correct his work from time to time, giving 
him valuable instruction. By this unsolicited and kindly atten- 
tion the young painter was much gratified. The maitresse du logis 
had from year to year solicited each of her artist guests to leave 
a memento of his visit in a sketch on one of the panels of her 
doors. In this way she had made her house uniquely pictorial. 
When the great landscapist became her lodger, she ventured her 
usual request that he would at his convenience decorate one of 
the door panels of her best room. Daubigny cheerfully con- 
sented. The young painter determined if possible to be present 
at the painting. Accordingly he began to sketch a landscape 
from an open window of the room which was to become famous. 
One morning, quite early, while the student was at his work, 
Daubigny entered with his box of materials, laid it upon a table, 
took a chair, and seated himself before the blank panel. The 
young American, it is needless to say, was all expectation ; the 
time he had looked forward to with the greatest pleasure had 
arrived ; he would now see the great artist paint, and try to learn 
something of his method. But his patience was to be sorely 



280 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

tried, expectation was to wait long upon gratification. Still 
Daubigny sat silently contemplating the blank parallelogram till 
breakfast, the mid-day meal, was announced. That over, he re- 
turned and quietly seated himself as before. The young student 
now thought his opportunity had surely arrived, and under cover 
of serious occupation to prevent suspicion that he was merely a 
looker-on, seated himself at his post and apparently became ab- 
sorbed in his own work. Again the hours passed slowly by, with do 
movement on the part of the master to reward the student's vigil. 

The stimulating hope of the morning was fading with ap- 
proaching twilight, the shadows were lengthening, hardly an 
hour of daylight remained, when, rising from his chair, Dau- 
bigny took his palette and brushes in hand and began to paint. 
The work was rapid : every touch told with precision and 
power. The picture had already been painted in his thought. 
All that he was now doing was to place it before his eye ; this 
he accomplished almost as speedily as the paint could be made 
to cover the panel. Dexterously the masses were laid in, and 
forms developed, till in a short half -hour, shorter than the young 
student had ever passed, the work was completed — a landscape 
full of beauty ; a memento of a great artist ; an enduring joy for 
the inmates of that rustic rendezvous of painters. 

Shall we call Daubigny an idler because he could sit so long 
absorbed in his own thoughts, and devote but thirty minutes of 
an entire day to tangible work ? Pictorial results may represent 
or indicate the work of genius, but they do not measure it. We 
may not estimate as an element in the production of his work 
the preparatory, severe study by which Daubigny's skill was at- 
tained ; but we must consider' the long hours of his quiet think- 
ing, on that day of the panel painting, as entering into and giv- 
ing value to his work. 

The picture occupied him an entire day, albeit he painted but 
thirty minutes. The hard work, if we may so call it, was not 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 281 

confined to the painting : it was in the arrangement, construction, 
and complete development of the picture in his mind. Had he 
reversed the order of his work, and commenced painting before 
thinking, he might have become involved and occupied several 
days with a less felicitous result. His genius was of that strong 
kind that can create mentally, and as it were, finish his pict- 
ure before beginning it. This faculty is evidence of the highest 
genius. Ordinarily, men — and men of great ability — need an 
objective starting-point, something visible to build upon ; some- 
thing to suggest something more. The higher genius works as 
by an inspiration from the inner to the outer, from thought-work 
to hand- work. 

Pleasure is tinted with a hue of sadness as we recall the 
scenes of more than fifty years ago in that modest house in Cam- 
bridgeport, where Allston lived. It is sad that the veil of time 
should bury with the evil of the past its pleasures and its beau- 
ties. No day laborer was ever more regularly at his post than 
was Allston at his work. He was one of the most industrious of 
men. For over thirty years, after his sickness in Bristol, with- 
out an hour of full health, disheartened at times by stress of pe- 
cuniary embarrassment, he labored with great persistency, and 
produced pictures which, could they be collected for exhibition, 
would form an array that would do credit to the industry of any 
man, even though he were not laboring under the discouragement 
of want of money and ill-health. He sacrificed himself to con- 
scientious labor. He was imprisoned in a sense of duty and con- 
stant necessity. It seems a reproach to humanity that such a 
man should have been so embarrassed. That this was felt by 
many of his personal friends, is shown by this extract from the 
Memoranda of E. H. Dana, Sr. : 

" Captain Hamilton, in his work upon this country, questions 
Allston's genius on the score of its being slowly productive. 



282 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

The captain should not have published such a remark before be- 
ing possessed of the facts, and after that he would hardly have 
done it. In this off-hand way, which merely clever men have of 
speaking of men of genius, they harm themselves, as it serves to 
dull their apprehensions of the infinite superiority of genius and 
the essential difference between it and mere talent. Besides, it 
weakens that reverence which it is beneficial to ordinary minds to 
feel for it. See his many designs and outlines, which show how 
active and productive was his imagination. 

" Dr. Channing had right views with respect to Allston. He 
considered that what was done for Allston was done for art, and 
for the world, and that for ages to come ; that it was not helping 
a certain individual of the name of Washington Allston, who 
would by and by die and be forgotten ; he did not look upon it 
in the low way of charity or alms-giving, but as wealth contrib- 
uting to the realizing of that without which wealth degener- 
ates into a vulgar drug, and man fails of rising to refinement. 
These views he many times expressed in earnest conversation 
with me. He felt that to any effectual purpose Allston should 
be made comfortably independent in his circumstances. I 
had previously written to Dr. Channing on this subject, and 
upon the little good that would arise from just keeping such 
a man's chin above water, instead of taking him fairly out 
of his seas of troubles, and standing him upon his feet on dry 
land. 

" Morse had the same views, and told me that he once said 
to Dr. Channing, ' Ask gentlemen what they would do for 
Eaffaelle, were he sent back to earth in his vocation, and that, 
let them do for Allston.' If one man ever loved and reverenced 
another, Morse loved and reverenced Allston. He told me that 
when he found he was likely to succeed with his magnetic tele- 
graph, and had the expectation of realizing a tolerable fortune 
from it, he had determined to set Allston free and enable him to 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 283 

give himself to his art, working simply from love of it, adding 
that he would have done it in such a way that it should not 
have given Allston a moment's painful feeling. 

" The very distress which debt and embarrassed circumstances 
throw the mind into, leads it involuntarily to find ease in 
forming the most improbable schemes for relief, about which 
few can believe it is really in earnest. Upon a severe affliction 
taking place in Allston's family, he said with deep emotion to 
my son, ' What a blessed thing it is for a man to have work to 
do in a time of affliction. One may paint with tears in the 
eyes — but to paint under debt ! ' 

" It used to be one of my dreams, that should God bestow a 
fortune upon me, one of the first things I would do would be to 
free Allston from all his pecuniary obligations, make arrange- 
ments for his current expenses, so that he should have no more 
anxiety on that head, furnish him with a man to attend to his 
brushes, palette, and all such matters, and aid some clever young 
artist, who might relieve him of much labor on his pictures, 
improve himself by doing all that work on the pictures which 
did not require the master's own hand. The simple presence 
of a human being with him would, unconsciously to himself, 
have had a kindly, healthful influence upon him ; while his 
being there as his familiar assistant, would have prevented any 
disturbing effect upon his mental processes. 

"But Morse and I have been waked, and behold it was a 
dream. No, I at times dream still, childish as it may seem, and 
fancy myself about doing, what in my case I then knew would 
be almost an impossible thing, and on which Death has now set 
its seal, making it an entire impossibility; and yet it a little 
eases the aching of my heart at times to be thus the child still ; 
and may I not then dream? Rather, will not minds have an 
intuition of other minds, mental images as they are mentally 
projected?'" 



284: WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Social duties and advantages were neglected by Allston 
because the stern necessity for work was upon him and his con- 
science held him to it inexorably. Mind or body, or both, must 
yield to the unbroken routine of labor under the hard conditions 
placed on him. This routine would have been unbroken, had 
not the charm of his personality, which drew about him of an 
evening a delightful companionship, brought occasional relaxa- 
tion. 



CHAPTEE XXIII. 

LETTEES FKOM 1835 TO 1838. — ALLSTON TO COGDELL, COMMENTS 
ON AKT. — CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN ALLSTON AND THE CON- 
GRESSIONAL COMMITTEE. — FINAL DECISION NOT TO ACCEPT THE 
COMMISSION GIVEN HIM BY THE GOVERNMENT. 

The first of the following letters to Cogdell has an interesting 
allusion to certain drawings from the old masters, which Cogdell 
had sent him, and the second refers again to Dunlap's paragraph 
intimating that he might have been of more industrious habits : 

" Cambridgeport, March 9, 1835. 

" Dear Cogdell : I have been intending to thank you by 
letter for your kind present of the drawings of Cork. I was 
about to begin an apology for not acknowledging it sooner ; but 
I have made so many apologies on the score of letter- writing, 
during half a century, that I think I may well be excused mak- 
ing any more for the rest of my life. Be assured, however, that 
though so late in its acknowledgment, I have not been the less 
sensible either to the beauty of these remarkable drawings, or to 
the kindness of the donor. 

" I had no difficulty in recognizing among them the hands of 
several of the old masters, especially Raffaelle, Correggio, and 
Titian. Of one or two, indeed, I doubted for a moment whether 
to ascribe them to Rubens or to some high Venetian colorist ; 
but a little reflection convinced me that these also were in too 
pure a gusto for the Flemish school ; so I set them down as Tin- 
toretto's. The beautiful drawing which you presented to Mrs. 



286 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Allston (who begs me to express her thanks for the gift), there 
can be no doubt, is from the delicate hand of Carlo Dolce. Sev- 
eral of them, however still remain unexamined in their cases ; 
for, as they are too good to be enjoyed alone, I never open them 
but when the pleasure can be shared by some particular friend. 
The most remarkable peculiarity of these drawings, and that 
which particularly struck me is this : that they not only satisfy 
you with their own beauties, but they set the mind to work, in 
conjuring up visions of its own, a true test of genius in art. 
There are indeed some other drawings of Cork, as, for instance, 
those of the Holland and Cognac schools, which seem to have 
a similar quality ; but it is only the property of repeating them- 
selves, or rather of doubling their own images to the eyes of the 
spectator. But no such vulgar effect can in any degree be possi- 
ble of these ideal drawings. The associate forms they suggest 
are essentially poetical — not a reproduction, a mere alter et idem 
— but a progeny ; the probable taking birth from the actual, and 
from the probable the possible. In a word, I know not to what 
more analogous I can liken their effect than to those natural 
visions at daybreak, which the sun reveals to the earth, when he 
opens the lids of a thousand sleeping flowers, that look up to 
him in return, blushing to find themselves so happy and beauti- 
ful." 

11 Cambridgeport, May 18, 1835. 

" Deae Cogdell : I wrote you last on March 10th. A day 
or two after I received a letter from Mr. Ticknor, mentioning the 
arrival of your bust of Scott. On the same day I wrote to my 
mother, and requested her to inform you of its arrival, and to 
say that I would go and see it as soon as the nature of my 
labors would allow me a day for that purpose. I did not get 
into Boston as soon as I wished or expected. 

" Mr. Dunlap has been led into an error by some person who 
could not have known me except by hearsay, in the account 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 287 

given of me in the last paragraph but one in his biography of 
me. Two small items in it only are true — the rest have no 
foundation. My evenings were spent not in the way sup- 
posed, but in solitary study, among my books and sketches. 
There is no character, not in itself vicious, that I despise more 
than a gossiping idler. Besides, the pencil is in my hand 
daily, and excepting the Sabbath, or when precluded by busi- 
ness, has been for years. I shall request Mr. Dunlap to correct 
this in his second edition. Do not let this which I now write 
get into the newspapers. I am not blaming Mr. Dunlap, who 
has been most liberal to me of praise, and who meant to be im- 
partial, and who, no doubt, thought the account he received cor- 
rect. Besides, I have a sincere esteem for him, and would on no 
account hurt his feelings by any indirect correction of it. I 
intend, when I have time, writing to him on the subject. In the 
meantime I would not have this false impression remain with 
my friends at a distance. . . . 

" Your sincere friend, 

"W. Allston." 

The following correspondence relates to the project that 
Allston should paint a picture for one of the panels of the 
Kotunda of the Capitol at Washington : 

" Cambridgeport, June 24, 1836. 
" Deae Jaevis : I have just received your letter of the 18th 
inst., informing me of the passage of a bill by Congress for sup- 
plying the vacant panels in the Kotunda with pictures by Ameri- 
can artists. For your friendly intention in my behalf I beg you 
to accept my best thanks ; but I regret to say that, under pres- 
ent circumstances, it is not in my power to profit by them. I 
had anticipated this contingency, and had long since deliberately 
made up my mind on the subject. I am not a free man, nor 
shall I probably become one in less than three years ; for after 



288 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

the completion of ' Belshazzar ' (which I expect to resume in a 
few weeks) I have several other pictures engaged, which I am 
bound in honor to finish before I undertake any new work. An 
expected picture at an uncertain time is an incubus to my imagi- 
nation ; I have therefore, under this feeling, declined five com- 
missions within the last eighteen months. Could you know but 
the twentieth part of what I have suffered from the (compelled) 
delay of ' Belshazzar,' you would readily believe that my peace 
of mind requires me to withstand the present temptation, for 
temptation it certainly is ; but he is safe who knows when he is 
tempted, seeing the end in the beginning. Were I free from my 
imperative engagements nothing would delight me more than to 
fill one of the panels of the Rotunda. It has often been a pleas- 
ant dream to me ; but I am not my own master and must dis- 
miss all such dreams. 

"I would not recall, much less repeat, the many injurious 
speeches that have been made about me for not finishing this 
picture, though it was a private affair, with which the public had 
nothing to do. Even some who professed to be friendly could 
not forbear a hard word. I do not, however, believe there was 
any ill-nature in this ; but words, if unjust, may be hard without 
ill-nature. I never quitted ' Belshazzar ' at any time but when 
compelled to do so by debts, contracted while engaged upon it, 
and which I could discharge only by painting small pictures ; 
many of which, from being forced work, cost me treble the 
labor and time they otherwise would have done, and conse- 
quently left but a pittance of profit ; nay, some hardly enough to 
cover their expenses, and of course without the means of return- 
ing to the larger work. You know that I have been unremitting 
in my labors. For years the Sabbath was the only time that I 
have been absent (except on business) from my painting-room, 
and I never sit there with my arms folded. That I have not 
brought more to pass was because I was like a bee trying to 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 289 

make honey in a coal-hole. But, thanks to some noble-hearted 
friends, those dark days are now past. They have taken me out 
of the squirrel cage ; my foot no longer falls in the same place, 
but every step I take carries me onward. By the assistance of 
these friends my mind is now at ease; but it would not long 
continue so were I to accept the commission which your friend- 
ship has so kindly labored to procure me. If in a private affair 
the public would reproach me for not performing an impossibil- 
ity, they can hardly be expected to be more considerate when 
every man in the country might claim to be a party. ' Will he 
never finish that picture for the Government? ' might be asked 
from Castine to St. Louis. No money would buy off the fiends 
that such words would conjure up. I am now an old man, and 
am besides too infirm of body to bear these things as some 
might ; they would soon wear away the little flesh I have. A 
regard for my peace, therefore, will compel me to decline the 
Government commission should it be offered me. 

" But I must wind up this long epistle by again expressing 
my grateful thanks for your kindness, which I trust you know I 
most sincerely feel, though for the reasons assigned I cannot 
avail myself of it as you had hoped. That it might not be 
thought (from ignorance of my motives) that I had carelessly 
1 thrown fortune from me,' I wish you to show this letter, in con- 
fidence, to Mr. Preston. I have written freely to you, as an old 
friend, what I could not have written to him, and it will save me 
the awkwardness of a more formal exposition of the reasons for 
declining the honor which the Committee would confer on me. 
Pray present my respects to Mr. Preston. 

" Give my best regards to Greenough, and tell him that I 
shall be right glad to see him. 

" Your old and faithful friend, 

"W. Allston." 

19 



290 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

" Washington, July 4, 1836. 
" Deae Sir : The Joint Committee of the two Houses of Con- 
gress, appointed for the purpose of contracting with one or more 
competent artists for pictures to fill the vacant panels of the Ro- 
tunda of the Capitol at Washington, have directed us to inform 
you of their wish for two of the productions of your pencil. 

" The only restriction in the choice of the subjects would be 
that they must be approved by the Committee and that they 
must serve to illustrate some events, civil or military, of suffi- 
cient importance to be the subject of a national picture, in the 
history of the discovery, or settlement of the colonies which now 
constitute the United States of America, of the separation of the 
colonies from the Mother Country, or of the United States prior 
to the adoption of the Federal Constitution. 

" You would be left free with regard to the time when the 
pictures should be finished ; the compensation will be liberal, 
and the payments made in proportions to suit your convenience. 
" Permit us to assure you of the personal gratification we de- 
rive from being the organs of this communication, and to express 
the earnest hope that neither your inclination nor engagements 
will prevent your acceptance of the commission. 
" We remain, very sincerely, 

" Your obedient servants, 

" G. C. Yerplanck, 
"L Jarvis, 
" J. Q. Adams, 

" The Committee:' 

Eeference to this project is also made at the end of the long let- 
ter from Leonard Jarvis to R. H. Dana concerning Allston, dated 
Surry, Me., February 12, 1844, from which we have already quot- 
ed a number of times in the foregoing pages. It is as follows : 

" One thing more and I will bring my prosing to a close. In 
1835 and 1836 Congress came to the determination to have the 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 291 

vacant panels of the Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington occu- 
pied with pictures according to their original destination. J. Q. 
Adams, one of the Committee to whom the charge was intrusted, 
proposed that Allston should be the artist employed. To this 
proposition our friend would not listen for a moment. He con- 
sidered that it would be a grievous wrong to his brethren of the 
palette, and he finally declined any share whatever in the com- 
mission. His reasons were that he was bound in honor to com- 
plete the ' Belshazzar ' before he should undertake another large 
picture, and this would require time ; that if he should accept, 
every one would think they had a right to inquire into the prog- 
ress of his work, and this very circumstance would impair his 
efficiency; that the reproach to which he would be subjected 
for not advancing like a house painter, though undeserving of 
notice, would wear upon his spirits and would finally destroy 
him. He preferred being a free man to being the slave of a 
multitude.. He nevertheless relinquished the offer with great 
regret, for he had long before selected a subject for one of the 
panels, on which he loved to expatiate. It was Columbus on his 
return from the discovery of the Western World presenting to 
Ferdinand and Isabella the results of his voyage. He thought 
this subject included all the requisites for a noble picture. I am 
sure it would have been if executed in the manner in which he 
proposed to treat it." 

Following are several letters to Cogdell containing allusions 
of interest to art, study abroad, Cogdell's own work, the after- 
ward celebrated landscape painter Thomas Cole, to Powers, and 
to the more personal matter of the writer's own health, already 
at this time seriously compromised : 

" Cambbidgeport, October 18, 1836. 
"Dear Cogdell: I have the pleasure to acknowledge the 
receipt of your kind letter by Mr. Gilman. And I thank you 



292 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

for not noticing my long silence. This is as it should be ; for it 
shows that you are willing to take me as I am, which all friends 
should do as to one another in this imperfect world. 

" Your project of visiting Italy I hope may be realized. I 
shall rejoice to hear that you are able to accomplish it ; for, as I 
observed to Mr. Gilman, I believe it would add ten years to 
your life, not only by the advantage which a change of climate 
would be to your bodily health, but by the renovation which 
that delightful country, with its thousand monuments of human 
genius, would produce in your spirit. You will, no doubt, when 
there, become more than a mere traveller and spectator. 
Surrounded as you will be by the finest works of art, I dare say 
that you will not be in Rome a month before you are hard at 
work, up to your eyes in clay. "With the excitement that must 
there meet you at every step, you, I am sure, will not be con- 
tent with simply looking. You will find yourself growing 
younger in body and more elastic in mind, and I should not be 
surprised if the consequence prove a development of powers of 
which you are now unconscious. The lives of Claude and the 
French sculptor Falconet (the colossal bronze statue at St. 
Petersburg of Peter the Great is by F.) show that genius may 
take a start at any period of life. Claude did not touch a pen- 
cil till he was forty, and, as Sir Joshua Reynolds well said, ' "We 
are more likely to have another Raffaelle than another Claude.' 
Up to the same age Falconet was a common laborer in a sculp- 
tor's studio. He could then neither read nor write, and was 
withal one of the multitude. But the genius which nature had 
given him suddenly, but secretly, became ' A presence ' to his 
mind ; and he began to develop it by stealth in his scanty por- 
tions of leisure ; nor was he suspected of genius till it came 
before the public in full growth. But he did not stop here. 
The rank to which his art had raised him made him feel the 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 293 

want of education, which the same energetic industry soon also 
enabled him to supply. So that he not only learned to read and 
write his own language in a manner becoming to a gentleman, 
but finally mastered both Latin and Greek. I mention this not 
as a parallel case to yours, for you not only have had the advan- 
tage of an early liberal education, but are already advanced in 
the art. I have only cited it to show that where genius exists it 
is never too late, while the other faculties remain, to bring it 
forth. Of the existence of this you have already given proof ; 
and I have now only to wish that you may be placed in circum- 
stances where it may have free scope and come to maturity. To 
this end, and I suppose you will agree with me, ease of mind as 
regards pecuniary matters is essential. As the love of gain 
never yet made a true artist, while it has marred many, so do I 
believe that no genius ever fully developed under the pressure 
of want. I call that want which involves obligations that we are 
unable to discharge, which to the honorable mind (next to the 
companionship of vice) is one of the ills of life most difficult to 
bear up against. 

" I will furnish you with letters, when you are ready to de- 
part, with great pleasure, to some who are among my most 
valued friends, in Eome, Florence, and London, each of them 
eminent artists, whom you will find also excellent men. Shall 
I introduce you to them as an artist, or as one who cultivates 
the art for his amusement ? . . . 

" I remain, your sincere friend, 

"W. Allston." 

" Cambredgeport, December 15, 1837. 

" Deak Cogdell : I wrote to my mother in October, well as 
I can recollect on the 27th, when I begged her to thank you for 
the kind letter which you wrote me at her request to inform me 
of my poor brother's death; the melancholy intelligence was 



294 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

rendered still more affecting by having to communicate it to my 
brother Henry, whom I had not seen for years, and who arrived 
on the evening of the day I received the letter. The misfor- 
tunes of one of his amiable and gentle disposition, while they 
saddened our recollections have still more endeared to us his 
memory. What a strange power has the mind ! I can look back 
over an interval of more than forty years, and see him as he 
was when a baby in the nurse's arms. And more mysterious 
still, I can connect the countenance of the nervous, laughing 
child with the mild, yet grave face of his middle age, feeling, 
too, that they are one and the same. How clearly does this 
speak to us of the imperishable identity of the soul through all 
physical mutations ; for it is the soul and not the outward form, 
which we now recall, and recognize, unimpaired by time. 

" I have already, in the letter alluded to, thanked my dear, 
good mother for her kind prescription, which I shall certainly 
try if I am again attacked in the way I described to her, and I 
don't doubt I shall find relief from it. But temporary relief is 
all I can expect from any medicine, as my medical friend in Eng- 
land long ago assured me. My complaint had even then be- 
come chronic ; and he told me then I must compound for being 
an invalid all my life. . . . But I am quite content that 
it should be so ; my blessings have been more than I deserve ; 
and for my present portion of health I am still most thankful. 

" I am glad to find you have resumed the pencil. Not that I 
would have you abandon the chisel, but it is better to have two 
kinds of agreeable employment than one. It has struck me that 
your group of ' Hagar and Ishmael ' transferred to canvas would 
make a fine picture. If you think so, allow me to make a few 
suggestions as to the color, which should be strong, but simple, 
say red and blue — the tunic red, and a blue mantle. I do not 
recollect if the boy has a tunic ; if he has, I would have that 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 295 

white. And let the foreground be of a strong, reddish earth, 
with gray stones ; the scene is a rocky desert, rather flat, with 
mountains, seen over a plain, at a great distance, and the hori- 
zon marked by a strip of light under a murky sky — you may 
remember my criticism on Ishmael's tongue. It should not be 
seen in the picture, I am sure. It would be offensive. Let the 
mouth be half open. Be sure you retain the expression of the 
mother ; it was very fine. If you think with me as to the choice 
of color for the picture, I would recommend for the tunic Vene- 
tian red for the lights, and Indian red and black for the shadows, 
which you may glaze, if you wish to enrich it, with lake and 
asphaltum ; never use vermilion in draperies, it is a flat color. 

". . . You will have a visit from my nephew, George 
Flagg, whom I am sure you will like. I write by him to my 
mother. He left us about two hours ago for Carolina, by the 
way of New York. You will receive this by mail. It will prob- 
ably reach you by the time he arrives. 

" Believe me, ever your sincere friend, 

"W. Allston." 

" Cambridgeport, October 21, 1838. 
" Deae Cogdell : It was my intention to have answered 
your kind letter of September 14th before this, but I have been 
prevented in various ways. I wrote to my mother on September 
30th, and was just about to conclude it when yours was brought 
to me from the post-oflice. Believe me, my friend, that I thank 
you from my heart for all your kindness to my dear mother, 
and no less for the past than for this last instance of your 
friendly disposition. Nor is she unmindful of it, as she speaks 
of you always with the greatest affection, calling you sometimes 
her son Cogdell. It is needless to tell you how sincerely I re- 
joice at the intelligence of your letter concerning the pension to 
my mother. Added to her small income, it will, I trust, make 



296 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

her declining years more comfortable than they have been of 
late. I have much doubt whether any claim on account of my 
father's services will be allowed, as they were those of a partisan 
officer in Marion's regiment. I may be mistaken, but I have 
always understood that the partisan officers served gratuitously, 
in which case the Government may deny the legality of the 
claim. Old Judge Watys, who was his brother officer, used to 
call him the ' young captain,' and always spoke of him as a gal- 
lant officer. I have often lamented that there is no portrait of 
my father. I think it the duty of all parents to have their por- 
traits painted for the sake of their children. The portrait which 
I painted of my mother before my second visit to Europe is to 
me invaluable. It was then considered an excellent likeness, 
and such, too, I consider it. I never seized a more characteris- 
tic expression and that of a strong mind and ardent feelings. 
My friend Coleridge, who saw it in England, admired the char- 
acter as belonging to no common woman, in which I think he 
judged truly. 

• ••••••• 

" You told me you had commenced ' Hagar and Ishmael,' 
but had been obliged to lay it aside on account of the sickness 
and hot weather. I hope that the more cheering days of the 
coming winter will enable you to resume it. If you preserve the 
expression of your modelled group, you will not fail of making a 
picture of deep interest. There are few subjects so limited in 
composition, so naturally adapted to awaken general sympathy ; 
but it is one in which, from the very circumstance of its sim- 
plicity everything depends on the expression. I use this last 
word in its ordinary sense, as relating solely to the figures — 
their air, attitude, and faces. This you have already in the 
modelled figures, and this would be enough if transferred to 
canvas. But there is another kind of expression which I hope 
you will endeavor to add — that of elements ; to make them, as it 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 297 

were in sympathy with the human emotion. In this consists no 
small portion of the poetry of our art, and this is expressed in 
the character — that is, the forms, tone of color, in short, the gen- 
eral effect, of the scenery. I remember one of Rembrandt's fin- 
est pictures owing its whole sublimity to the background alone. 
Rembrandt, as you know, had no excellence in form, though no 
one ever surpassed him in expression, even in its widest sense ; 
for he was a poet in all else. The picture I allude to is ' Jacob's 
Dream,' which consisted of only three figures, Jacob and two 
angels; the figure of Jacob about six inches in length, asleep 
on the ground, and nothing better than a drowsy Dutchman ; 
but the angels, which were only two inches in height, and of 
course too small to indicate more than the general air, were from 
the skill with which they expressed that air, in the remote dis- 
tance more like angels than anything I have seen on canvas. 
And they owed this to the background, the midnight sky, the 
fathomless darkness— I might almost say the permeable pitch — 
in which they moved, while the two hardly visible lines of light 
which formed the ladder seemed to sway with the night-breeze. 
Nothing could be more simple than these few materials, yet he 
did contrive to make out of them one of the sublimest pictures 
I know. 

" Cole, of New York, whom I believe you know, had a very 
beautiful landscape in the last Athenseuin Exhibition called * A 
Dream of Arcadia.' Powers, a young sculptor from Cincinnati, 
is going to do great things in his art, if I mistake not. He is 
now in Florence. I saw him before his departure and felt as- 
sured of his success. He is no common man." 



CHAPTEK XXIV. 

mrs. Jameson's peaise of the allston exhibition in boston in 
1839 — letter of allston to his mother concerning this 
exhibition — death of his mother — letters to cogdell 

AND McMURTRIE. 

Mrs. Jameson, the well-known writer on art, when in this 
country, visited Allston. The following extracts are from her 
beautiful memoir of him, published in 1844 : 

" About two years before his death there was an exhibition of 
his works in Boston, an exhibition which, in the amount of excel- 
lence, might well be compared to the room full of Sir Joshua at 
the Institution last year. Those who have not seen many of 
Allston's pictures will hardly believe this ; those who have will 
admit the justice of the comparison — will remember those of his 
creations, in which he combined the richest tones of color with 
the utmost delicacy and depth of expression, and added to these 
merits a softness and finish of execution and correctness of draw- 
ing — particularly in the extremities — which Sir Joshua never 
attained, nor, perhaps, attempted. When I have thought of the 
vehement poetical sensibility with which Allston was endowed, 
his early turn for the wild, the marvellous, the terrible — his ner- 
vous temperament, and a sort of dreaming indolence which every 
now and then seemed to come over him, I have more and more 
deeply appreciated the sober grandeur of his compositions, the 
refined grace of some of his most poetical creations, the har- 
monious sweetness which tempered his most gorgeous combina- 
tions of color, and the conscientious, patient care with which 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 299 

every little detail is executed ; in this last characteristic, and in 
the predominance of the violet tints in the flesh and shadows, 
some of his pictures remind me more of Leonardo da Yinci than 
of Titian or Reynolds. His taste was singularly pure, even to 
fastidiousness. It had gone on refining and refining ; and in the 
same manner his ideal had become more and more spiritual, 
his moral sense more and more elevated, till in their combina- 
tion, they seemed at last to have overpowered the material of 
his art, to have paralyzed his hand. 

" As Allston's works were in accordance with his mind, so, to 
complete the beautiful harmony of the man's whole being, were 
his countenance, person, and deportment in accordance with 
both. 

" When I saw him in 1838 I was struck by the dignity of 
his figure and by the simple grace of his manners ; his dress 
was rather careless, and he wore his own silver hair long and 
flowing ; his forehead and eyes were remarkably good ; the gen- 
eral expression of his countenance open, serious, and sweet ; the 
tone of his voice earnest, soft, penetrating. Notwithstanding 
the nervous irritability of his constitution, which his dangerous 
and prolonged illness in 1811 had enhanced, he was particularly 
gentle and self-possessed." 

The hanging and varnishing of the pictures in the Allston 
exhibition above referred to were intrusted to his nephew and 
pupil, George W. Magg. One day, while overlooking the work, 
Allston called his nephew's attention to the clouds in the up- 
per part of the picture of "The Dead Man Restored," and 
said he thought they were good. His nephew replied that he 
liked the painting of them, but thought the effect of the pict- 
ure as a whole would be finer if the mountain peaks were re- 
lieved against a plain blue sky. To this Allston said, " No ! " 
But the next day he said to his nephew, "You were right." 
This conclusion so far emboldened the young man that he vent- 



300 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

ured further and remarked that he thought the eye of the 
spectator wandered too much between the upper and lower 
groups, and that it would be better if the lower group were more 
strongly painted, so as to draw attention immediately to the 
dead man, upon whom it was intended that the interest should 
chiefly centre. Allston shook his head and again said, " No, I 
cannot agree to that," and went out. The next day he came and 
said, " I have been thinking over your criticism, and have come 
to tell you that you were right, and could I afford it I would 
take a canvas and paint the picture anew upon your two sugges- 
tions." The incident certainly shows very strikingly the frank- 
ness of Allston's nature and his magnanimity, for it should be 
remembered that his nephew was at that time a mere neophyte 
in art, having neither experience nor reputation entitling his 
opinions to special consideration. 

It was to his mother that he first wrote of the success of this 
exhibition, and in the following terms, which show a touching 
filial interest and affection : 

" Cambkedgeport, July 14, 1839. 
" My Dear Mother : I have been waiting for the arrival of 
sister Polly before I answered your last letter. ... I am 
much disappointed that she could not come on while my exhibi- 
tion was open, but it closed last "Wednesday, the 10th inst. The 
exhibition was extended a month beyond the time originally 
intended, and it was felt that it would be trespassing on the 
liberality of the owners of the pictures to ask a further exten- 
sion, especially as there must necessarily be a continued risk 
from fire. It would have been a great gratification to me had 
one I love so dearly as my sister seen these fruits of so many 
years' labor. There were forty-five pictures at the opening of 
the exhibition, to which two were afterward added. There were 
several others in different parts of the country that could not be 



Swiss Scenery. 

From the original in the possession of Thornton K. Lothrop, of Boston. 




.1 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 301 

obtained. This number was anything but expected by the pub- 
lic; and when they took into account their elaborate finish, 
many could not help expressing their surprise at my industry. 

" This was one, at least, of the results of which I felt sure ; 
and I feel a satisfaction that I am no longer misjudged in this 
respect. I am now and ever have been, since I made my art a 
profession, a hard-working man, and as much so from inclination 
as from necessity ; for the law of my nature impels to employ- 
ment. I cannot choose but work, sick or well; indeed six 
months idleness would soon upset me. But these are by no 
means all my works, as some of the newspapers have imagined ; 
the pictures which I left in Europe, though fewer in number, 
would make a larger exhibition. 

"I cannot speak in terms too grateful of the kindness of the 
people of Boston on this occasion ; more especially of my imme- 
diate friends, the gentlemen of the committee, who conducted the 
exhibition. It was originally proposed by them, and they asked 
of the proprietors the loan of the pictures ; I did not solicit one, 
nor, indeed, would it have become me to have done so. 

" I have not yet learned what are the profits, and shall not 
know, perhaps for days, until all expenses have been paid. The 
expenses, it is supposed, will fall little short of $900, for besides 
room-rent, doorkeepers, packing, transportation, etc., there was 
the insurance. As well as my friends can now guess, the net 
profits will amount to about $1,500. 

" You say in your last letter that you hope I will take good 
care of the money I get from this exhibition. I have for many 
years been in the habit of economizing with what little I have 
had, and I could not (even if I felt inclined, which I am far from 
feeling) be profuse with this, for it will nearly all go immediate- 
ly to my creditors ; I shall reserve only barely enough to live on. 

" Many people who have seen these pictures think I ought 
not to be poor ; but my pictures are in truth the cause of my 



302 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

poverty ; they would not be what they are (at least what the 
public are pleased to consider them) without the time and labor 
they have cost me ; and the greater part of them have not more 
than paid their expenses, some not that even. I do not say 
this, however, repiningly. I have long ago discovered that mine 
is not a money-getting art, and have been content with it never- 
theless. I never could make it a trade ; no picture ever went 
out of my hands that was not, for the time being, as good as I 
could make it ; and the consequence has been fame and poverty. 
Well, be it so ; the fame gratifies those who are dear to me, and 
the poverty I can bear. 

" As you wish to see some of the ' handsome things ' that 
have been said of me, I will send you in a day or two a few pa- 
pers, and more by sister Polly. Had it been possible, my dear 
mother, for you to have seen this Exhibition, it would have given 
me more pleasure than all the praise I have had. I should then 
have doubly felt that fame was worth more than money. I be- 
lieve if I had none who loved me I should care little for fame. 
I could not say so, however, of my art, for that I must love 
under all circumstances. 

" That heaven may ever bless you is the constant prayer of 
" Your affectionate son, 

"Washington Allston." 

In the presence of the writer, Allston was requested to sit to 
Clevenger, the sculptor, for his bust ; but he refused, saying, 
that while he was pleased to have his works seen and admired 
he had no wish to be seen himself. Subsequently, however, he 
did sit to Clevenger, and to his nephew just mentioned. The 
portrait painted by the latter at that time is engraved as the 
frontispiece to this biography. 

The circumstances of his sitting, in violation of his expressed 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 303 

disinclination to do so, reveal the tenderness of his nature. His 
aged mother, then residing in Charleston, S. C, had long been 
anxiously hoping for a visit from him. Upon being told by a 
friend who had recently seen him that she must not expect 
him to visit her, as he was physically unable to endure the jour- 
ney it would involve, she wrote to her grandson, George Flagg, 
requesting him to paint his portrait and send it to her. The 
letter was an exceedingly affectionate one. George gave it to 
his uncle, who took it to his room and carefully perused it. 
Its tender expressions of love, setting forth the yearning of her 
mother's heart to see him before her departure, which was so 
evidently drawing near; her gentle repining and implied re- 
proach, that he had so long absented himself from her ; all this 
was so charged with pathos that he could not withstand its ap- 
peal. He returned the letter with the remark, " I cannot refuse 
that." Accordingly he sat to Flagg and Clevenger, at the same 
time, in his studio at Cambridgeport. 

" Cambridgeport, December 5, 1839. 
"Deab Cogdell: By the brig Josephine, Captain Charles 
Smith, you will receive two boxes, containing each a plaster cast 
of my bust ; one for my mother, and the other for yourself, of 
which I beg your acceptance as a small token of my regard. The 
bust was modelled for the Athenaeum, at the request of the trus- 
tees, by Mr. Clevenger, a young artist from Cincinnati, whom I 
consider as one giving evidence of no common mind. He has 
been passing several months here, previous to his departure for 
Italy, where, if I mistake not, he will produce a ' sensation.' He 
has every quality to make a great artist ; and what is still better, 
adorn a great artist, for he is modest, amiable, and single-hearted, 
loving his art for its own sake, and finding his highest pleasure 
in its labors. It is delightful to meet with such a man. I know 
not when I have met, as in him, so beautiful a coincidence of sim- 



304 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

plicity and power — one of the few whom the world would have 
great difficulty in spoiling ; for his love of fame, if I understand 
him aright, is not mere thirst of praise, right or wrong, but the 
purer desire of sympathy, which, if ever realized, is both the best 
reward and excitement of genius. He is a man, in short, whom, 
if you knew, I am sure you would like with no ordinary liking. 

" I suppose you already know, from my letter to my mother, 
written about a fortnight since, that the ' King of Babylon ' is at 
last liberated from his imprisonment, and now holding his court 
in my painting-room. If you have not seen the letter I would 
refer you to it for the particulars. As the time approached for 
opening the box in which the picture had lain for so many years, 
I could hardly suppress some sad misgivings as to what time 
and confinement had done to it. And you can well imagine my 
delight on finding it without a crack or stain ; only two small 
places on some subordinate heads being rubbed in the unrolling. 
But I find I am only repeating what I said in the letter to my 
mother, so I will end by saying that I feel that in returning to 
my labors upon it as if I had returned to my proper element. 
By the way, I must caution you not to heed anything which you 
may see in the newspapers concerning this picture. They have 
already begun in New York to fabricate the most fantastic para- 
graphs about it. A writer in one paper says that he was pres- 
ent at the unrolling, that it is already finished and will be exhib- 
ited in a few days ; the paragraph, tdo, purporting to be an ex- 
tract from the letter of a Boston correspondent. The writer adds, 
' In my next I shall give you a description of the picture ! ! ! ' Now 
the whole of this is a sheer fabrication. The only persons pres- 
ent were four workmen and my brother-in-law, who came to as- 
sist in the unrolling and raising it on the easel, but who would 
not look at the picture, as he said that he did not wish to see it 
until it was completed. About fourteen years ago I remember 
that the newspapers amused themselves pretty much in the same 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 305 

way, but I made up my mind then to take no public notice of 
these fabrications, nor shall I now, as there would be no end to 
it. I am determined that the public shall not know anything 
about ' Belshazzar,' how long I expect to be still employed upon 
it, or anything else. When he is ready to make his debut I shall 
announce it myself. I do not now admit even my friends into 
my room — so nobody can know anything about the picture. 

" You will perceive by the bust that time has laid his finger 
on me since you saw me. My friends here think it could not be 
more like me ; as well as I know my own face so think I." 



" Cambridgeport, January 12, 1840. 

"My Deak Cogdell: Your letter of December 28th has 
given me a shock which I had vainly thought I was prepared 
for ; but I found I was not. The advanced age, together with 
the increasing infirmities of my poor mother had long since 
warned me that she could not long remain in this world ; and I 
had endeavored to prepare myself for this inevitable and afflict- 
ing event. Yet it came upon me with all the force of an unex- 
pected blow. She is gone and I shall never see her more ; never 
till we meet in heaven, which, God grant, I may through His 
grace be permitted to do. Her image is ever before me, with all 
the mother's tenderness, with the same benignant expression as 
when I last parted from her, as fresh as if it had been but yes- 
terday. And I thank God that such is the impression left in 
my heart ; it is a great comfort to me. But this is but secondary 
to the inexpressible comfort which I feel in the deep conviction 
of her present happiness, which her true and ardent piety, her 
perfect Christian resignation (of which I have long been assured 
in her letters) all confirm beyond the shadow of a misgiving — she 
is now with her Saviour. There is no consolation for the be- 
reaved like this. Nor indeed can there be any other to a believ- 
20 



306 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

ing Christian. In the midst of her troubles, which I know have 
been many and hard to bear, this has always crossed me as a 
cheering thought in her behalf, that my mother was a Christian, 
and then I felt sure that, happen what might, she would be 
supported through it. I can now think of her as my blessed 
mother, numbered with the ' just made perfect,' where there is no 
more sorrow, no more trouble. I would not exchange this con- 
viction for all the wealth and honors which the world could 
offer. 

"I cannot tell you, Cogdell, how I loved my mother; she 
herself never knew all the love I bore her. She was the constant 
object of my daily prayers. And, though separated for so many 
years by most trying and adverse circumstances, she was never 
a day out of my mind. But, dear, blessed mother, we shall meet 
at last, I trust, in another and better world. 

"And now, my friend, I know not in what words to thank 
you for the feeling manner in which you have made your melan- 
choly communication. But your own kind heart will tell you 
all I would say, not only for this last act of friendship for me, 
but for all your past devoted kindness to my beloved parent. 
God bless you for both. While you mourn with me, even as a 
brother, you have the consolation of knowing that, to her last 
breath, she loved you as a son. Whenever you were mentioned, 
which was almost in every letter for the last years of her life, 
she always spoke of you with the deepest affection. She seemed 
aever weary of repeating your kindnesses, and I never shall for- 
get them. 

• ••••••• 

" Boyhood. 

"Ah, then how sweetly closed those crowded days ! 
The minutes parting one by one like rays, 

That fade upon a summer's eve. 
But O, what charm or magic numbers 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 307 

Can give me back the gentle slumbers 

Those weary, happy days did leave, 

When by my bed I saw my mother kneel, 
And with her blessing took her nightly kiss ? 
Whatever time destroys, he cannot this ; 

Even now that nameless kiss I feel. 

" Washington Allston." 



" Cambridgepokt, January 31, 1841. 

" My Deab Cogdell : I have been long wishing to write you, 
but, to say the truth, my head has been utterly barren of subject- 
matter for a letter. I remember one of Cowper's most agreeable 
letters was merely to tell his correspondent that he had nothing 
to say ; and though it was literally about nothing, he continued 
to make it as brilliant as a soap-bubble reflecting all the colors 
of the rainbow. Would that I had his epistolary talent to make 
this so too, for my object in now taking up the pen is simply to 
say the same thing. But as I have not his talent I can only 
state the plain matter of fact. There is little occurring in this 
sublime porte at any time, least of all at this season, and what 
does occur is not worth noting. Indeed I am in a manner out 
of the world here, more especially in the winter, though not 
quite three miles from Boston. 

" About once or twice a month I have a visitor thence to 
pass an evening with me, and this is pretty much all that I get 
sight of from among the busy throng that is moving around me. 
But this I always thankfully consider as something between 
charity and a windfall. My ovm visits to town are very rare, 
seldom exceeding a dozen in the course of the year — for a visit 
there always costs me a day, which I can ill afford. As I 
formerly said that I did not intend to give any account of ' Bel- 
shazzar ' until it was finished, I shall only say now that I am 
hard at work on it — and on nothing else. I remember once tell- 
ing my mother that no picture ever went out of my hand that 



308 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

was not as good as it was in my power to make it, for the time 
being. Neither shall ' Belshazzar ' leave my room until I have 
done my best on it. This is not the way, some artists might 
warily think, to get rich. I knew that, however, more than 
twenty years ago ; yet I have never swerved from this course ; 
for it is better to be poor in a course which I know to be honor- 
able, than to be rich in any other. This, with the love of my 
art, has for so many years enabled me to endure poverty without 
repining. 

My best regards to Mrs. Cogdell, and, believe me, my kind- 
hearted friend, ever affectionately, 

" Washington Allston." 

" Cambridgeport, March 24, 1841. 

"My Dear Cogdell: Did I not know your unwearied be- 
nevolence I should fear to tire you out on the subject of my late 
letters ; but as I feel assured that the interest you have taken in 
the matter is no less from your humanity than to serve your 
friend, I shall make no apology for these additional lines. Soon 
after my last letter to you I sent an abstract of its contents to 
my brother William at Newport, and I herewith transcribe the 
following extract from his reply : 

" ' Your letter, my dear brother, was received in course, after 
which I lost no time in writing to my sister (extracting word for 
word what you wrote me on the subject), who will direct my 
nephew, J. A. Allston, who is, jointly with Mr. Cogdell, I sup- 
pose, my attorney in the matter which now seems to distress you 
so much ; and I notice, as I hope feelingly, your observations 
respecting the slaves inherited from our grandmother. I agree 
with you that they should not be separated if possible, having 
formed family connections with Mr. Belin's people, nor be sold 
to be carried out of the State. The price it seems was fixed at 
$550 by the court, which directed them to be offered to Mr. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 309 

Belin, and being more than he was disposed to give, would it 
not be well to sell him yours at such a rate as to induce him to 
take the whole ? I only suggest this to you, as by so doing all 
the slaves might be benefited by your intentions, and Mr. Wig- 
fall and Henry be satisfied. As for myself (although you well 
know that I am in a manner penniless and without a profession) 
I would make any reasonable sacrifice which the case may re- 
quire. My views are well known to my sister.' 

" Now, my friend, I will most gladly adopt the course sug- 
gested by my brother, that is, let Mr. Belin have my share at 
such a rate as may induce him to take the whole ; indeed to ef- 
fect this desired object he should have my share on any terms. 
But as Mr. Belin might not, even in this case, like to make an 
offer from himself, I will here propose terms, namely, $100 for 
each of the slaves of my fifth part. And the affair might be 
easily managed in this way. Let the whole sixteen be rated as 
the court has already decided, at $550 each ; my fifth part of 
the proceeds, say three (as to the fraction I give it in) slaves, 
would then be $1,650. Well, instead of paying me this sum for 
my fifth, let him pay me but $300. And, moreover, let this con- 
tract be entirely private between you and him. I wish no one 
to know anything about it, for it's nobody's business but mine. 
Also, in respect to the payment, let Mr. Belin name his own 
terms of credit. 

" I have only to add that you must not think in the offer here 
proposed I am making too great a sacrifice. No, my friend, and 
I assure you, on the word of a gentleman and a Christian, were 
the sum in question ten times greater, I would gladly relinquish 
it to effect the desired object. It has not cost me one moment's 
hesitation, I consider it in fact no sacrifice at all, for it will give 
me peace, which is a treasure far above gold. And at this time 
especially do I need peace of mind, in order to do justice to the 
important work on which I am engaged. You will therefore, I 



310 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

trust, consider yourself fully authorized to make the proposed 

private contract with Mr. Belin. 

" My best regards to Mrs. Cogdell. God bless you and 

yours. 

Yours affectionately, 

"Washington Allston." 

The prints referred to in the following letter from Allston to 
McMurtrie were a set of Burnet's etchings from Baphael's car- 
toons. The Inman print was an engraving from the portrait of 
Bishop White. The "one exception" among the engravings 
from Allston's own pictures we do not know. 

" Cambridgeport, June 15, 1841. 

" My Dear Sir : I received your letter of the 11th of May, 
nearly three weeks since, but delayed answering it until the 
arrival of the box of prints, which has just reached me. For this 
most acceptable present I beg you to accept my best thanks. 
They remind me of the spirited etchings of Piranesi, and give 
more of the character, expression, and general spirit of the car- 
toons than any finished engraving I have seen of them. They 
are such as I think must have pleased Raphael, had they been 
done in his time. Hogarth used to say to the engravers whom 
he occasionally employed to assist him, ' Give me my character 
if you do it with a hobnail ; ' often obliterating weeks of the 
fine work without compunction. I wish I could say that th 
prints which have been engraved from my pictures had anything 
like the truth of these admirable etchings ; but I have been par- 
ticularly unfortunate for (with one exception) neither my char- 
acter, expression, nor effect is to be found in any of them ; that 
from ' Jacob's Dream ' gave me an immediate fit of the heart- 
burn, which did not leave me for a whole day. It was engraved 
for one of the London Annuals, by a person who seemed to have 



\ 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 311 

had as little notion of the character of the picture as of the hu- 
man figure. 

" I think you are quite right in the opinion that your son 
should master the elements of our art in the outset. If he does 
not possess himself of them now, whilst he is young, he will 
find it hard, if not altogether impracticable hereafter when 
he shall become aware of his deficiencies. Let him think no 
time misspent which he devotes to the human form ; tell him to 
fag at it until he can draw it with as much ease as he can write ; 
he will then be able to realize his most poetical conceptions — but 
not until then. 

" The great fault in discipline among our young artists is in 
their beginning to ' make pictures ' too soon ; to make a whole 
before they are acquainted with parts. It is an easy matter to 
produce a pleasing effect, either in color or chiaro-oscuro, but 
not quite so easy to guess right as to form ; and he can do no 
more than guess who attempts it without knowledge. There are 
hundreds of artists in every age who pass a long life in produc- 
ing striking effects without an atom of truth in a single com- 
ponent part. Above all, let his progress be ivith Jcnoivledge, for 
only this can secure an artist from the impertinence of ignor- 
ance ; from being either irritated or disheartened by false criti- 
cism. In a word, let him love his art for its own sake, not for 
the contingent applause, and he will not be satisfied without a 
thorough mastery of its principles as well in their minutiae as 
their leading points. 

" As to Dusseldorf, where you propose sending your son, I 
can express no opinion ; indeed, I have been so long from Eu- 
rope that I know not which is now the most eligible school for a 
young artist. I have reason, however, to think highly of the 
present German school, from what I have lately seen of some of 
their works, having been honored with a very magnificent pres- 
ent from Count Eaczynski, of Berlin, consisting of his own val- 



312 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

uable work on German art, together with numerous prints from 
the productions of various living artists of Germany, among the 
principal of whom are Cornelius, Kaulbach, Schnorr, Bende- 
mann, and others, whose names I cannot at this moment recall. 
These specimens certainly place the German school very high, 
especially in purity of taste. 

"lam much pleased with the print from Inman ; it is a rich 
composition. If I may be allowed a critical remark, I should 
say that the quantity of dark is too great ; there is consequently 
not enough of middle tint. But this I apprehend is the fault of 
the engraver ; I daresay the picture is different in these particu- 
lars. Were the engraver here with his plate he could easily 
scrape down some of the darks so as to remove the objection. 

" You have probably had from Dr. Channing, or others, some 
account of my late Exhibition, where I had the gratification of 
refreshing my affection for your little ' Mother and Child,' for 
the loan of which I now send you my thanks. The kindness of 
my friends, both abroad and at home, on this occasion, is one of 
those pleasant things to think of in my old age. 

" You mention having the great picture of kind, good Mr. 
West now with you. There are heads in that picture equal to 
Baphael. Nothing can surpass the High Priest and many 
others. The Penitent Thief has a sublime expression. 
1 remain, dear sir, with unabated regard, yours, 

" Washington Allston." 

The following letters to Cogdell contain interesting details of 
a rather more than usually personal character : 

" Cambridgeport, November 14, 1841. 

c My Dear Cogdell : Before this letter reaches you, you will 
probably have received a little volume which I have just pub- 
lished, and of which I beg your acceptance ; I have sent one 






WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 313 

also to our friend White. They were shipped yesterday, by my 
publishers, Messrs. Little & Brown, of Boston, to the care of 
Mr. Samuel Hart, bookseller in Charleston. This book ' Mo- 
naldi ' (as I have stated in a prefatory note), was ready for the 
press as long ago as 1822, but having been written for the pe- 
riodical of a friend, which was soon after discontinued, it was 
thrown into my desk, where it has lain until the present time. 
In the note I add that it is now published, not with the preten- 
sions of a novel, but simply as a tale. My friends have for 
years past repeatedly urged me to publish, but for various rea- 
sons, which some perhaps would think no reason, or at least in- 
sufficient, I had kept the work by me so long that, in fact, I be- 
came quite indifferent whether it ever saw the light or not. 

" Our excellent friend White has, I hope, received permanent 
benefit from his journey to the North. This visit was a most 
agreeable surprise to us. It is a pleasant thing in this mutable 
world to meet with a friend who retains in his old age the 
warmth and kindly sympathies of his youth. His old friend 
Mr. Dana felt no less pleasure than myself at the meeting. The 
meeting of three old men, who have been friends for forty years, 
is not an every-day occurrence. We were much pleased with 
his wife. I had another unexpected, as well as most gratifying, 
visit from my cousin, Dr. Edward Mitchell, whom I have not 
seen since we were schoolboys forty-six years ago. He was then 
a slender, delicate child, now a stout, robust man ; I a young 
dandy, sporting three silk waistcoats, according to the fashion 
of the day, now a person that ought to be venerable, and am in- 
deed — so far as snowy locks can make one so. We might well 
have marvelled at the metamorphoses of time, and yet, though I 
am no longer a dandy, I do not find that all my youthful feelings 
have passed away. In regard to some of these I cannot admit 
that I am a day older. Should you see Dr. Mitchell, give my 
regards to him, for he is a worthy, good man ; and tell him how 



314: WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

much pleased I was with his visit. He was much esteemed by 
my mother. 

" It is but a few days since I left a sick-room. I was brought 
down by a severe inward cold that threw my whole system out 
of order. But thanks to my physician, through a kind Provi- 
dence, I am again well and strong enough to pay continuous 
court to the King of Babylon. 

" Mrs. Allston unites with me in best regards to Mrs. Cog- 
dell and yourself. 

" Yours affectionately, 

' ' Washington Allston. " 

" Cambkidgeport, December 5, 1841. 

" My Deak Cogdell : I have received your letter of Novem- 
ber 26th, containing a copy of the account of Mr. Laurens, the 
Master in Equity. In reply to your question, whether I gave 
my consent in writing to my mother when she sold the negroes 
of the life estate to Dr. Mitchell, I answer that I did. My 
mother asked my consent, as one of the heirs, and I gave it 
without a moment's hesitation, most willingly; and I beg that 
this letter may be considered as confirming it. 

" I think I acquainted you in a former letter of my noble- 
hearted sister, Mrs. W. A. Allston's generous offer of her share 
of the inheritance from our grandmother to be divided between 
my brother, William M. Allston, and myself ; and I have the 
impression also that at the same time I informed you that, in 
reply to her, I declined receiving any part of it, and begged her 
to give the whole to William. With respect to this matter, I 
have only to add that I still hold the same mind. And (if this 
letter is, as I hope sufficient authority) I hereby relinquish, in 
favor of my brother, William M. Allston, all that my sister, Mrs. 
William A. Allston, may have either given or bequeathed of her 
share of our grandmother's inheritance to me. You will there- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 315 

fore, my friend, if said share of my beloved sister be set apart 
for my brother and myself, consider it all as his, and remit it to 
him accordingly when it shall have come into your hands. 

" I had received, as you supposed, before your letter reached 
me, the intelligence of my sister's death ; her son John's letter 
was received on the 20th of last month. Ah, Cogdell, she was a 
woman of ten thousand, in mind and heart both. Well, it cannot 
be a great while before I shall be called to follow her. I have 
often of late thought of that inevitable hour, that sooner or later 
must come for me, as well as for those I have loved and lost. 
This dear sister is now, as I believe, with her Saviour, for she 
was a Christian, and died in a Christian's hope. From my 
heart do I feel for her husband, a noble, high-minded man, 
every way worthy of such a wife. I have written to him, and I 
trust that my letter may not be wholly without comfort to him, 
at least after the first shock from such a bereavement shall have 
been mitigated by time. 

"My dear Cogdell, with my whole heart do I reciprocate 
your kind wishes in my behalf. Mrs. Allston joins me in best 
wishes to Mrs. Cogdell and yourself. 

" Yours affectionately, 

"Washington Allston." 



CHAPTEE XXY. 

allston's letters during the last years of his life : TO 

COUNT RACZYNSKI, ON GERMAN ART J TO McMURTRIE AND COG- 
DELL. — EXHD3ITI0N OF " SPALATRO " IN CHARLESTON, S. C. — 
CHARLES FRASER'S OPINION OF THE WORK. — LETTERS TO LESLIE 
AND TO THE WIDOW OF DR. WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. 

During the last years of his life Allston's letters show an un- 
abated interest in the subjects that had been his constant preoc- 
cupation, and as searching and sapient comments on them as in 
his earlier days. We give herewith one to Count Raczynski, the 
Polish writer on art, author of the " History of Modern Art in 
Germany," and Prussian Ambassador at various courts : 

" Cambridgeport, March 6, 1842. 

" Monsieur le Comte : For the gift of your valuable work 
on ' Modern Art,' together with the prints from German artists, 
which you have done me the honor to present me, I beg you to 
accept my best thanks. 

" Permit me, sir, to say that I was most agreeably struck 
with the pure taste which everywhere pervades your volumes ; 
and as one who loves his art, and therefore interested in what- 
ever tends to elevate its character, I sincerely hope that the 
sound criticisms they contain will be felt and appreciated in 
other countries besides Germany. And I cannot doubt that 
such will be the case wherever your work is known ; at least 
with those who acknowledge in art a higher end than mere 
gratification of the senses. 

" The prints which accompany your books give me a high 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 317 

opinion of the present German school. I was particularly 
pleased to notice in most of them so pure a taste in form, and in 
all the entire absence of the theatrical and fantastic in composi- 
tion ; even where some of the subjects might have tempted the 
artist to extravagance I found nothing to revolt me, as ' over- 
stepping the modesty of Nature.' Indeed one of the most re- 
markable instances I have ever met of this rare discretion is in 
Kaulbach's ' Combat ' in the air between the Huns and Romans ; 
though in the highest degree visionary, the improbable is yet 
so tempered by the true that the imagination does not doubt it 
for a moment. Only a genius of a high order, a master of the 
poetic nature of the imaginative possible, could have produced 
such a work. I know nothing in modern art which I would 
place before it ; no dream ever brought with it a deeper faith, 
and I longed, as I looked on it, to take the hand of the artist 
and express to him my admiration. It is not to the purpose to 
say which of the artists appeared to me the best ; but I cannot 
forbear mentioning, as among the first, together with Kaulbach, 
Cornelius, Bendemann, Schadow, Schnorr, and Meyer. To 
these, were it necessary, I might add several other names not 
unworthy to be classed with them. 

" For the kind notice with which you have been pleased to 
honor me, in your account of American artists, I beg you, sir, to 
accept my respectful acknowledgments. I have the honor to be, 
Monsieur le Comte, 

" Your obliged and obedient servant, 

" Washington Allston." 

Renewed testimony to Allston's anxiety to finish his " Bel- 
shazzar " is furnished incidentally in this letter to McMurtrie : 

" Cambkidgeport, June 23, 1842. 
" My Dear Sir : I have received your present, the sketch of 
1 Prometheus,' by Mr. West, for which I beg you to accept my 



318 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

thanks. But I am sorry to say that it is not in my power to send 
you such a drawing as I could wish ; I can only send one or two 
pencil sketches — hardly worth your acceptance, except for the 
good-will that accompanies them. I hope, however, to be able, 
at some future time, to add something better. Though I have 
a very considerable number of sketches, they are, for various 
reasons, such as I could not well spare, being for the most 
part compositions on large mill-boards, or on canvas, for future 
pictures, with some few that I wish to preserve as memo- 
randa of former works. On paper I have rarely sketched of 
late years. 

"Perhaps no artist has been more careless than myself of 
his sketches, the greater part having been lost, destroyed, given 
away, or otherwise disposed of, years ago. I have often of late 
regretted that I took not better care of them. The pencil 
sketches referred to, being small, I will enclose within the leaves 
of a volume which I published last summer, and of which I ask 
your acceptance. The book was first published in Boston, but 
the copy I send you is from the London edition of it, which I 
have just received. 

" I very much regret that it is not in my power to avail my- 
self of your friend's wish to possess a picture by me ; my en- 
gagements being such as to oblige me to decline any commis- 
sions, which I should have been otherwise glad to undertake. 
Besides ' Belshazzar,' on which I am now exclusively employed, 
and shall continue to be until it is completed, I have already en- 
gaged pictures enough to occupy me many years (perhaps more 
than I can expect to live) ; the picture you refer to in your letter 
has been sold several years since. I suppose it is the one which 
Coleridge named ' The Sisters,' and which Sully (it being a fa- 
vorite with him), may have described to you. One head in it — 
as to air and colors, but not in character or head-dress — was imi- 
tated from the picture by Titian, called his daughter holding up 



The Sisters. 

From the original in the possession of Thornton K. Lothrop, of Boston. 




! 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 319 

a casket. The other figure, with the rest of the composition, 
choice of colors, etc., was mine. . . . 

" Believe me, dear sir, with unabated regard, 

"Sincerely yours, 

"Washington Allston." 

A letter, dated July 4, 1842, from Cambridgeport, to Cogdell 
contains the following : 

"I congratulate you on your present prospect of visiting 
Italy. And I have no doubt that the new spring it will give both 
to your mind and constitution will add many years to your life, 
and that they will be happy ones I venture to predict ; for with 
health and competence (even though it be barely sufficient to se- 
cure one from the slavery of debt) what is to prevent a pleasura- 
ble flow to time in the free pursuit of our most innocent art ? 

" Your promised introduction to the Pope, in presenting him 
with the portrait of Bishop England, I should think must be of 
great advantage to you. As to the glowing works of art by 
which you will be surrounded in Borne — they will breathe new 
life into you. Even at this distance of time I live upon them in 
memory. In that ' Silent City,' as my friend Coleridge used to 
call it, were some of my happiest dreams ; for they were the 
dreams of youth, to which even the then gorgeous present was 
but a dark foreground to the beautiful and dazzling distance of 
the future. And though my approaches to that future have uni- 
formly caused it to fade more and more into the common day- 
light, laying bare to the senses the illusions of the mind, yet I 
do not regret that I once so dreamed of it ; since I have only, 
as if reversing a telescope, to look back into the past, even from 
my present foreground, matter of fact as it is, to see the same 
delightful, though imaginary distance — dimmed, indeed, because 
diminished, but still the same. The visions of the past are not 



320 WASHINGTON- ALLSTON 

always lost to us ; they may become less defined, but they do 
not all vanish ; and I have still enough of them (thank Heaven !) 
to call up at will, to embellish, as it were with pleasant pict- 
ures, the homely walls of the immediate reality. No, whatever 
changes have fallen to my lot, I cannot regret these illusions ; 
my youth was one, if I may so express it, of intense life, and the 
mere memory of it were sufficient to keep me from repining. 

" Ever, affectionately, your friend, 

" Washington Allston." 

In the year 1842 Allston's picture of " Spalatro " was exhib- 
ited in South Carolina. Of this picture his friend Charles Fra- 
ser said : " Of all his pictures I give ' Spalatro ' the preference. 
Once seen, it can never be forgotten ; the scene is one of terrific 
interest, and the murderer appears to tremble ; the flame and 
light from the lamp are perfect." To the Magnolia, a literary 
magazine, formerly published in Charleston, Eraser contributed 
the following, September, 1842 : 

" ' A scene from Mrs. Eadcliffe's " Italian," ' by W. Allston. 
"We have heard this (save the mark !) called a ' pretty picture. 
We do not think it is so, and we are sure that the unsuspecting 
artist never dreamed that it would be so considered. If high- 
wrought delineation of character ; if the personification of the 
vilest impulses that agitate the heart and distort the features ; 
if depravity stamped by nature on every trait, and nurtured in 
deeds of violence and bloodshed ; if the contortions produced by 
a terror-stricken conscience, in every limb and joint and sinew 
and extremity, from the crown of the head to the very toenail, as 
seen in the faltering figure of ' Spalatro ' ; if the stern unpitying 
fixedness of the man who grasps the dagger, and points the way 
to his sleeping victim ; if the midnight gloom of a dungeon, 
made visible by the glimmering of a little lamp, with its associa- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 321 

tions of hopeless suffering ; if all these brought together with the 
matchless skill of the artist, and embodying to the eye what had 
been before only unveiled to the imagination, if these constitute 
mere beauty, then indeed might we pronounce this a ' pretty 
picture.' 

" But we apprehend there is something more than beauty in 
it ; a charm in which art itself is hidden, and which makes us 
forget the pencil in its creations. No painter could have pro- 
duced such a picture without a profound knowledge of human 
nature, without being able to trace to their deepest recesses the 
springs of conduct, and without a philosophical knowledge of 
their influence on the actions of men. In a word, we know of 
no picture ever painted in this country that has concentrated in 
a greater degree the delight and admiration of the intelligent. 
Its execution is in Mr. Allston's peculiar style of high finish ; his 
maxim is, that as nature is nowhere found slovenly and negligent, 
the art that professes to imitate her should be elaborate in its 
process, and never fall short of its object from want of care. We 
never see, therefore, what is technically called handling in his 
pictures, but his effect (and in this he never fails) is made out 
by study and diligence. One remark more, and that is the magic 
effect of the lamp, which seems to flicker before the eye. The 
lights on the figures and surrounding objects neither take from 
its brilliance nor lose any of their own distinctness." 

To Cogdell, September 26, 1842, Allston writes : 

" My Deae Cogdell : I have this day received your letter of 

the 20th inst., and thinking you might wish an immediate answer 

to your question, ' Whether I had surrendered to my brother, 

William M. Allston, my part of my late sister's portion of the 

inheritance from our grandmother, which she had destined for 

my brother and myself,' I lose no time in replying that I had. 

Soon after the death of my mother, my sister wrote to me partic- 
21 



322 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

ularly concerning the inheritance referred to, and expressed her 
intention to divide her portion of it between my brother and my- 
self. In my answer to this letter, after thanking her for this 
generous proffer, I declined accepting any part of it, and begged 
her to give all she intended for me to William, as he had children 
and I had none, besides, that I had a profession, whilst he was 
without one. I wrote you also to this effect, so that your im- 
pression respecting it is correct. 

" As to strangers meddling with your private concerns, that 
is a penalty which every man at all known to the public must 
inevitably incur. I not only hear, but am doomed to read, 
accounts, both of what I have done and am doing, as new to me 
as they would be to my antipodes. And nothing is more com- 
mon than to hear opinions ascribed to me which I never expressed, 
and could not entertain. Indeed I have had so much of this 
kind of gossip circulated about me that I have become quite 
callous about it, giving it no heed, especially as I ascribe it rather 
to idleness than ill-nature. I sometimes say to my friends that 
if I wanted to learn what I was going to do next, I had only to 
ask the first stranger I should meet. 

" I have at last, in my old age, got into a house of my own, 
built from the proceeds from the sale of land which but a few 
years ago rented for no more than $250. Having the control 
over the design, the house was constructed not only according to 
my notions of convenience and comfort, but in some degree to 
suit my taste. It is somewhat in a different style from our 
dwelling-houses here, and I should not have been surprised if 
much fault had been found with it by others ; but people seem 
to be generally pleased with it. At any rate it has one great ad- 
vantage, it is but fifty feet from my present painting-room. 

" Mrs. Allston joins me in best regards to Mrs. Cogdell and 
yourself. Ever affectionately yours, 

" Washington Allston." 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 323 

The subjoined letter, dated October 11, 1842, to Leslie, was 
one of the writer's last to his friends oversea : 

" Deae Leslie : This will be handed yon by my friend Mr. 
Albert G. Hoit, whom I beg to introduce to you as one whom I 
highly esteem both as a man and an artist. It is Mr. Hoit's 
intention to visit France and Italy as well as England. But his 
time abroad being necessarily limited, his stay in London will of 
course be short. If you will favor him with such facilities as 
may be in your power for seeing various works of art in London, 
especially such as are not open to the public, you will much 
oblige an old friend. 

" Mr. Hoit having obligingly offered to be the bearer, I take 
this opportunity to send you a volume which I published last 
year. I send one also to Collins, and one to Mr. Green, the 
Professor of Anatomy to the Eoyal Academy. I knew Mr. 
Green when in London, and I show him this mark of respect as 
the friend of Coleridge, and as one whom I know Coleridge to 
have held in high estimation. In an eloquent work of Mr. 
Green, ' The Hunterian Oration,' which I have lately read, I 
think (but am not certain) that F.B.S. was affixed to his name 
in the title-page. If so, will you add these letters where I have 
written it, on the blank-leaf of my book. 

" I was very ill, so as to be confined to my chamber, the 
greater part of last winter, and continued very feeble throughout 
the spring and summer ; but, thank Heaven, I have now regained 
sufficient strength to proceed in good heart with my labors. I 
would tell you more about myself, but that Mr. Hoit, to whom 
I shall leave it, will be able to say more for me than I could put 
into a letter. Do not, however, follow my example when you 
shall feel inclined to write to me, but tell me all about yourself, 
the more minutely the better, and all about your wife and chil- 
dren, to whom, though I have never seen, yet, as parts of your- 



324 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

self, I must send my regards. To Collins remember me most 
affectionately. Though a poor correspondent, or rather, no cor- 
respondent, I am not, therefore, forgetful of my friends. You 
would hardly believe it, but it is a melancholy fact that I write 
hundreds of letters to strangers, persons whom I never saw. 
And why ? Because their letters must be answered, else I have 
no peace with a gentleman's conscience ! You will think, per- 
haps, that I fully console myself for this infliction by deducting 
what I owe to my friends. Be that as it may, I believe they all 
understand me, and do not measure my regard by the length or 
frequency of my letters. 

" I remain, dear Leslie, your unaltered friend, 

" Washington Allston." 

As connected with the foregoing, it is perhaps worth while 
to give this extract from a letter from Hoit to Allston, dated 
London, November 14, 1842 : 

" Samuel Bogers seemed gratified to hear from you, and said 
it gave him pleasure to show his collection to any friend of 
yours ; and he went with me from basement to attic, pointing 
out to me every picture and object of virtu with all the activity 
and enthusiasm of the first love of art in a boy. ... I 
agree with you in your high estimate of Stoddard. After seeing 
Bogers's Titian, ' Christ and Mary in the Garden,' I perceive now, 
more than ever, how perfectly you have been imbued with the 
spirit of the masters of that age, and how little of it there is in 
the present English school." 

Following are such portions of two of his latest letters to 
Cogdell, to whom he always wrote very intimately, as are of pub- 
lic interest : 

" Cambridgeport, April 15, 1843. 

" My Dear Cogdell : . . . Greenough, as I take it for 
granted you know through the newspapers, has long been re- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 325 

turned to this country. He is still in Washington, seeing, I 
suppose, to the erecting of a new building for the proper exhibi- 
tion of his statue. I hear he was absolutely startled at the ap- 
pearance it made in the Rotunda ; the shadows falling so per- 
pendicularly as almost to obliterate the features, and otherwise 
misrepresent the whole figure. I hope the new building to 
which it is to be removed, and which will probably be erected 
under his superintendence, will be such as to do it justice, as it 
is a work, according to the testimony of several competent 
judges who saw it in Florence, that undoubtedly does him honor. 
"When he intends returning to Italy I know not. He being out 
of the question, there are only two persons left to whom I can 
give letters, Clevenger and Kellogg, who are both now in Flor- 
ence. I am not sufficiently acquainted with Powers to add a 
letter to him, but Clevenger's introduction to him will serve you 
quite as well. Clevenger's marble bust of me, which he made 
for the Athenaeum, so far surpasses the cast that, without im- 
pairing a jot of the likeness, you would hardly know it to have 
been done from it ; it is an exquisite work. 

" As the time draws near for your voyage, I suppose your 
enthusiasm must be pretty near boiling-heat. All, my friend, 
that is the true country for art, and it is a proud thing for 
America that in art she is now so well represented there. 
" Ever affectionately your friend, 

" Washington Allston." 

" Cambridgeport, June 29, 1843. 

" My Dear Cogdell : 

" You ask if I think your visit to Italy will have the same 
effect on you now, as I formerly supposed it would. I see no 
reason for changing my opinion; for, though some ten years 
have been added to your age, you are by no means beyond the 
age to feel the influences of a happier and more congenial em- 



326 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

ployment, and a finer climate ; you will profit by them, I doubt 
not, both in body and mind. I have no doubt, were all circum- 
stances propitious to my revisiting Italy, that the change of 
scene as well as the climate would add vigor also to me, could 
I bear the voyage, which I could not, as the motion of the ves- 
sel would soon increase the chronic complaint which has so long 
afflicted me to a degree of torture. 

"As I have never been in correspondence with Thorwald- 
sen, I could not with any propriety write an introductory letter 
to him ; but I am happy in being able to procure you letters to 
our consul, Mr. Green, and to Crawford, the sculptor, from a 
friend of mine in Boston, who is an intimate friend of both 
those gentlemen, either of whom will make you acquainted with 
Thorwaldsen, as they are both well known to him. 

" Poor Legare ! You must, no doubt, as well as myself, have 
been deeply affected by the news of his sudden death. One of 
the highest intellects and the most noble-hearted statesmen has 
been lost to his country. The death of no public man for many 
years has been so universally lamented ; even his political oppo- 
nents seem to have forgotten their party feelings in the general 
sorrow. Judge Story pronounces him one of the most learned 
jurists of his time. And certainly he has not left a more accom- 
plished scholar behind him. He had many and thorough 
friends here, in whom his high principle, no less than his ex- 
tensive attainments, had won a confidence that connected him 
with the future welfare and honor of our country. But if he has 
been taken away from the hope of his friends, and in the midst 
of his usefulness, it is no slight consolation to them that he was 
cut off also in the flower of his integrity. He has left a great 
name ; but what is far better in his case, a good name. 

" Mrs. Allston joins me in best regards to yourself and Mrs. 
0. Believe me, ever affectionately yours, 

"Washington Allston." 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 327 

The last letter Allston wrote was to Mrs. Charming, the 
widow of William Ellery Charming, and most of it is given 
herewith : 

" Cambmdgeport, July 4, 1843. 

" I never could write a letter at the time it ought to have 
been written ; and this answer to yours, I fear, forms no excep- 
tion. In addition, however, to the exhaustion caused by the ex- 
cessive heat of the weather, I may plead, as some excuse, that I 
have been troubled of late by a wearing, dull pain in my side, 
which makes writing more than usually fatiguing to me ; occa- 
sionally it becomes very acute, so much so indeed as to force 
me, while painting, to suspend my labors until the paroxysm is 
past. 

" With respect to the portrait I had promised,* my neces- 
sities compel me to say that it will be wholly out of my power 
to undertake it with any hope of success until I shall have com- 
pleted ' Belshazzar.' My friends, I have reason to think, are not 
aware how much depends on this work, which has so long and 
anxiously employed me, and which has so often been suspended, 
but never voluntarily. But, I trust, you will understand it, 
when I add (to say nothing of present embarrassments) that to 
this source alone can I look for the means of discharging obliga- 
tions that have weighed upon me for years. Besides, there is 
that involved in the undelayed termination of this picture which 
is far more important to me than any pecuniary consideration. 
Until relieved of this burden I feel (and indeed know too well 
from bitter experience) that no attempt I might make, as to the 
portrait, could be successful. It is not with me now as in former 
days — when the original was painted — when I was young and in 
health, and with nothing extrinsic to overshadow my Art. For 
the last two years a succession of bodily complaints have griev- 

* The unfinished portrait of Dr. C. in possession of his widow. 



328 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

ously impeded the progress of the picture referred to, and the 
still feeble state of my health warns me that another suspension 
may be fatal to it forever. But once freed of this importunate, 
heavy load, I shall be, I trust, another man, and enabled to 
bring to this labor of love, fresh and unembarrassed, whatever 
powers I possess. 

" I have made this frank statement, my dear Mrs. Charming, 
as what I owe both to you and myself ; to your kind and gener- 
ous nature, and to my honor and right feeling, for I know not 
what would distress me more, than that any misapprehended 
circumstance should lead you to doubt my inclination to fulfil 
my promise." 



CHAPTEE XXVI. 

DEATH OF ALLSTON. — HIS SUDDEN AND PAINLESS PASSING AWAY. — ■ 
ACCOUNT OF R. H. DANA, JR. 

The death of Allston was almost an unfelt transition, so mer- 
cifully tempered was it to his delicate physical condition. Mem- 
bers of Mrs. Allston's family had dined and passed the evening 
with him. At seven o'clock of July 9, 1843, he had entered the 
house from his painting-room, where he had been hard at work 
on " Belshazzar." To reach the elevation of the soothsayer's 
face, on which he had been working, it had been necessary for 
him to ascend a ladder. The continual ascending and descend- 
ing, to paint and see the effect of his work, would have been 
wearying to a strong man ; to him it was extremely exhausting. 
He was evidently fatigued when he entered the house and 
greeted his guests, but after the refreshment of dinner he wore 
his usual animation, which imparted its wonted delightful and 
inspiring influence to all present. There was a refreshing inter- 
est in his manner that cannot be described. A kind of individ- 
ualization, making each one feel that he was an object of special 
regard and attention ; the gushing stream of kindliness from his 
heart reached, satisfied, and charmed everyone about him. This 
evidence of gentlemanly refinement singularly distinguished All- 
ston. In separating for the night, even to those whom he was 
to see the next morning, he would make the most courteous ac- 
knowledgment for the pleasure he had derived from their society. 

His last words to the retiring guests on that night of his 
departure were to his niece, Miss Charlotte Dana, whom he 



330 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

regarded with the affection of a father. They were words coun- 
selling intellectual, moral, and religious development unto per- 
fection. And they were accompanied with his last benediction, 
" God bless you, my child," and sealed with a kiss upon her 
forehead. 

Soon after he said to his wife, "I have a slight attack of indi- 
gestion, I think I had better take a little soda." While she was 
preparing it, he sat at the table in front of the fireplace, with 
his head resting on his hand as if in thought, she turned to 
speak to him, he did not answer ; she, supposing him to have 
fallen asleep, touched his hand ; it fell limp. Thinking he had 
fainted, she called aloud. Her sister and niece, who had just 
retired, hastened to her assistance. They laid him upon the rug 
in front of the fireplace, and chafed his body, hoping to revive 
him. The doctor had been called. He came, felt his pulse, and 
said, " He is gone." His wife's first thought was true, he had 
fallen asleep. 

Beautifully impressive are the words of the diary of E. H. 
Dana, Jr., which we quote : 

" I was awakened by the ringing of the door-bell on Sunday 
morning at two o'clock. In answer to my inquiry, I was told 
that I was needed at Cambridgeport immediately, that Mr. 
Allston was dead. It went to my heart like a clap of thunder. 
For the first time in my life I was confused upon an alarm, I 
could hardly breathe. I was soon dressed and in the street. 
The night air was chilly and the streets were as still as death. 
The man had been to call Ned at Chestnut Street, and we 
waited for him. In a moment we heard the fall of footsteps, 
and Ned came up to us. "We got into the chaise and rode out, 
with hardly a word spoken. We reached the house. I saw a 
light in the back room where he always sat, but none upstairs. 
Where can he be ? Where did he die ? We opened the door. 
Aunt Betsey met us in the entry and said a few words. He was 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 331 

in the back room. I went to the door and just saw his body 
lying on the rug in front of the fire, and Aunt S. and Ned by his 
side. I could not for my life have gone up to the body. I went 
to the other end of the room and looked out of the window. I 
moved to the other window, but could not go up to it. Never 
did I force myself more than when I moved gradually and fear- 
fully up to it. And there he lay. Excepting that his necker- 
chief had been removed he was dressed as usual, his gray and 
white curls lay about his forehead and shoulders, and his sub- 
lime countenance, with closed eyes, was turned upward. His 
candles were burning upon the table ; by the side of them lay 
his spectacles ; the remnant of his last cigar was upon the corner 
of the mantelpiece, where he always placed it; another, un- 
touched, which he had taken out to use next, lay near it ; a 
small plate, as usual, held the ashes of his cigar, and a few 
books, but none of them, however, open, lay upon the table and 
mantelpiece. Mrs. Allston had been taken upstairs. 

" The day was now broken and there were the first twittering 
of birds and the sound of returning motion in the world. No 
rising sun was to awaken him from his rest, his spirit was in an 
eternal day to which no night cometh. The light being fully 
returned we could contemplate his sublime countenance. There 
was the highest grandeur of intellect, with the purity and peace- 
fulness of one in the world, but not of the world. 

" One could not but feel the absence of any signs of force in 
his intellect. It was rising, soaring, from one elevation to one 
higher, and especially into infinite space. There was no exercise 
of force against other intellects, no combat ; no strife for mas- 
tery, which gives vigor and development to most minds, but 
which, compared with the growth of his intelligence, is like the 
shooting out of rays in horizontal lines compared with the rising 
upward, upward to the source of all light. Truth and beauty for 
the glory of God and the elevation of man were the great object 



332 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

for which his powers had been given him, and these he pursued 
without compulsion or conflict. 

" At about eight o'clock I went over to announce the event 
to Uncle Edmund. He was in bed. I told it to him in a few 
words. He said nothing for some time, but lay with his eyes 
closed. At length he said, ' It is too horrible ! ' and after some 
time he repeated, ' It is too horrible ! ' I sat by his side and he 
said, 'I should like to have you come to see me to-morrow.' 
Upon this I left him. 

" At about nine I went up to Cambridge to announce the 
death to father. He was visiting at Professor Channing's. I 
sent for the Professor, but he was at breakfast and did not come. 
I had to send again, and Cousin Harriette came, and this made 
a confusion, and father seemed to suspect that something was 
wrong, so we told him at once. ' Mr. Allston is dead ! He died 
last night.' 'What does this mean ? How ? When ? What is 
all this ? What does this mean ? ' I said again, ' Pray be calm. 
He has gone peacefully and quietly ; if j'ou had been there you 
would not feel so.' Gracefully, like the clearing away of a mist 
or the rising of a curtain, his mental expression returned to his 
eye ; the cloud passed off, and the momentary aberration, for 
such it was, ceased. I then told him of all the consoling things, 
and among others mentioned that Aunt Martha was wonderfully 
calm, and seemed to have had a supernatural strength given her. 
This calmed father more than anything else had done. 'If 
Martha is only sustained, I have no fear ; I feared her nervous 
and frail nature.' Being assured on this point he became more 
composed. I then told him that my Aunts had feared the effect 
of this upon him, but that I had told them I knew that father had 
been predicting his dissolution, and I supposed he would not be 
surprised at any time to hear of his death. But far different was 
the effect. Father came toward me, and I went up to embrace 
him, but he clutched my hand convulsively and said not a word. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 333 

I led him to a chair. I sat down before him. He looked upon 
me, but his eye was that of one whose mind had been over- 
thrown. It was not fancy in me, I could not be deceived in it. 
I placed my hands upon his shoulders as I would upon those of 
a child or an insane person, and told him to be calm. He heard 
me not, for his mind had no perception at the time. My blood 
returned to my heart, my limbs were cold, I could not speak, for 
I looked into his eye again and again and there was no change, 
and I thought I had crazed him. At length he said, in a broken, 
incoherent manner, ' How is this ? ' I said I had told them if it 
had been some embarrassment or trouble of worldly or pecuni- 
ary matters it would make him ill, but that so great a thing as 
this he could stand up against. This hit his feelings where I 
meant it should, and he said that was just the case with him, 
and added : ' Oh, I have had my mind too much fixed of late 
upon death, eternity, and the spiritual world, to be distressed by 
the fact of his death.' We then talked of the blessing — things 
attending his death. He had escaped that terrible vision — the 
nightmare, the incubus, the tormentor of his life — his unfinished 
picture." 

The above unstudied and pathetic record prepares us for the 
singularly impressive character of the funeral. It was so timed 
as to meet the setting sun in its approach to the place of burial 
in Cambridge. Arrived at the churchyard, students of Harvard 
— Allston's Alma Mater — appeared bearing torches. Overshad- 
owing clouds rendered their light needful. But soon the clouds 
opened, as if to let inhabitants of other spheres contemplate the 
scene. The moon and stars looked down with consecrating light 
as the service for the burial of the dead was voiced in solemn 
tones. 



CHAPTEE XXVII. 

FIRST INSPECTION OF " BELSHAZZAR." — TECHNICAL ACCOUNT OF IT 
BY JOHN GREENOUGH. — ATTEMPTS AT RESTORATION. — TRAGIC 
INFLUENCE OF THE WORK ON ALLSTON's LIFE. — ITS PRESENT 
POSITION. 

Immediately upon the entombment of his body public inter- 
est turned to the unseen, yet famous, " Belshazzar." Mr. Dana, 
with his son Bichard, Mr. Edmund T. Dana, with his son Ed- 
mund, and Mr. John Greenough, on the 12th of July entered the 
painting-room. The secret of many years' thought and labor 
was opened, and the great work of Allston's life revealed. They 
who first saw it were a committee appointed not by any special 
authority so much as by a sense of fitness because of their sym- 
pathies and familiarity with the deceased. Interest was mingled 
with sadness at the condition of the great picture. The King 
had been finished, and Allston had expressed himself satisfied 
with his success ; but now his entire figure is covered and blotted 
out with a coat of dark brown paint. Upon seeing this the 
elder Dana remarked, " That is his shroud." But we must not 
attempt, by describing " Belshazzar " as it then appeared, to go 
over ground so well covered by others. Among Mr. Dana's 
" Notes," we find two descriptions of the picture, written after 
Allston's death. The first is technical, given by Mr. John 
Greenough, the second is extremely poetic, but without signa- 
ture. We regret that we have no clue to its authorship. Both 
are true to the subject and very interesting. Greenough's is as 
follows : 

" Belshazzar is here treated in strict accordance with the ac- 



Bels bazar's Feast. 



From the original study for the large unfinished picture in the Boston 

Museum of Art. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 335 

count in Daniel, chapter v. The scene is laid in the King's 
palace, where ' Belshazzar made a great feast to a thousand of his 
lords.' Belshazzar is seated upon his throne, in the foreground, 
on the left, near him, stands the Queen, supported by two Egyp- 
tian female slaves. The prophet Daniel, stands nearly in the 
centre of the foreground, his eyes fixed upon the King, and with 
his left hand pointing to the handwriting upon the wall, while 
he interprets the meaning of the mysterious words. The four 
figures on the right are the astrologers, Chaldeans, and sooth- 
sayers, who were * unable to read the writing or interpret the 
meaning thereof.' 

" The King has called for them and they have been brought 
into his presence. All have attempted, and all have failed to 
read the writing, or to show the interpretation thereof. Upon 
this the Queen, to whom word h:s come, has appeared in the 
hall and counselled the sending for Daniel, and he has been 
called. The King has addressed him and he has answered, set- 
ting before him the degradation, restoration, and piety of the 
King his father, and his own apostasy ; and now, pointing to- 
ward the handwriting, he reads the words and shows the inter- 
pretation. All eyes but those of the Queen are turned from the 
supernatural writing to the Prophet, who is revealing the judg- 
ment. 

" Eeceding a little from the immediate foreground is a group 
in shadow, their physiognomy and devout attitudes mark them 
to be Jews. They seem to be elevated by a consciousness of 
the truth of their religion, and deeply impressed with the trium- 
phant display of the power of the true God. One of the females 
kneels in an attitude of reverence or prayer, while another 
reaches forward to touch the garment of the Prophet. Behind 
these, and forming a part of the same group, a youth of the Cop- 
tic race, in military habiliments, points to the vessels of gold and 
silver which were taken from the Jewish Temple by Nebuchad- 



336 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

nezzar, the predecessor of Belsliazzar, and were ordered by Bel- 
shazzar to be brought to his feast ' to serve wine to his lords and 
princes, their wives and concubines. ' 

" The middle distance is occupied by the banque ting-table, 
which, crowded with guests and laden with the holy vessels, is 
seen between the figures in the foreground. Large columns of 
porphyry, of barbaric order of architecture, support a gallery 
filled with spectators in attitudes of wonder and excitement. At 
the head of nine steps, under a large central light, is a colossal 
golden figure of Belas. The extreme distance shows an immense 
flight of steps with persons rushing up and down. As this pict- 
ure is exhibited in an unfinished state, a few remarks in rela- 
tion to its condition become necessary. It is known that Mr. 
Allston considered it virtually finished some fifteen or twenty 
years ago. He afterward, however, thought that by a change 
in the perspective the effect of the whole would be greatly im- 
proved. This change involved material alterations in nearly all 
the main figures of the picture then finished. After a consulta- 
tion with Mr. Stuart the painter, he decided to undertake the 
labor, and, with this end in view, wrought upon the picture at 
intervals, carrying out his new design, but died before its com- 
pletion. 

" The picture now shows this later new design, in some parts 
perfected, in others commenced, while some portions remain 
precisely as they were before. A few outlines in chalk, made 
by Mr. Allston's hand over these latter portions, indicate that 
but trifling alterations were thought necessary to make them 
agree with the new design. It was found necessary to remove 
these outlines previous to varnishing the picture, but an accurate 
minute of them has been made. 

" The alteration in the perspective required the size of the 
principal figures to be enlarged. This is particularly evident in 
the group of magicians, where new heads have been commenced 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 337 

on an enlarged scale, and the height of the figures is increased by 
half a head. A portion of one of the former heads is still to be 
seen under the chin of one of the new ones. The necks and 
shoulders remain the same as in the old design, though it is easy 
to trace the lines which were to have formed the shoulders to 
correspond with the last painted heads. The outline painted in 
oil-colors over the drapery of the principal figure of this group 
shows that having changed the height of this magician, Mr. All- 
ston thought it necessary to paint the whole of the drapery anew, 
in order that every fold of the garment should be strictly true to 
the anatomy of the figure. The heads are unfinished, and proba- 
bly are advanced very little beyond dead color. Near this group 
are to be seen the remains of two heads, which have the appear- 
ance of having at one time been finished, but afterward pumiced 
away to prepare a ground for raising the shoulders of the figure 
below. There are no means of judging whether Mr. Allston in- 
tended to dispense with these heads in his new composition, or 
whether they were to be repainted in different proportions. 

" ' Belshazzar,' it will be seen by a glance, is now very far from 
perfect. It is, in fact, only the ghost of the figure which was 
once entirely finished, and afterward by his own hand pumiced 
down and covered with a solid coat of paint on which to paint a 
new figure on a larger scale. The left foot remains precisely as 
it was finished for the first figure. The right hand is evidently 
a new one, begun on a large scale to correspond with the in- 
tended proportions of the figure. It wants the glazing and fin- 
ishing touches. As this figure was found, there was a perfect 
blank in the picture where the figure of Belshazzar was at one 
time seated on his throne entirely finished. The effect of the 
whole composition was marred not only by the want of one of the 
principal figures, but from the discord occasioned by this large 
spot of paint, which was entirely out of keeping with the rest of 

the picture. 

22 



338 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

" Those who were intrusted with the picture deliberated and 
debated a long time on the expediency of removing the covering 
from this important figure. They feared that Mr. Allston, pre- 
viously to painting it out, must have nearly obliterated it to form 
a proper ground for the new figure. On the other hand, they 
thought it desirable to obtain even such a remnant of this im- 
portant element of the design, and it was presumed that the col- 
oring of the old figure, however much rubbed down, would re- 
store in some measure the harmony of the picture. They natu- 
rally felt a reluctance to tamper with anything in the work of so 
great an artist ; however, the consideration that they were about 
to remove a covering which could at any time be replaced by a 
common hand, and that its removal might work a most benefi- 
cial change, at length determined them. The coat of paint has 
been by a peculiar process carefully taken off and the result has 
been as anticipated. The figure was found to have been rubbed 
down to precisely the state in which it is now seen ; but the in- 
troduction of the color, even in its present state, at once threw 
light and brilliancy into other parts of the picture in a manner 
scarcely to be conceived except by those who saw it in its pre- 
vious condition. 

"In all other respects the picture is the same as it came 
from Mr. Allston's hand. It is to be hoped that it may always 
remain so. However much we may regret that he did not live 
to complete his work, it is very certain that no artist who has the 
ability to appreciate it would have the assurance to put his brush 
to it. It is a consolation to reflect that to artists it is quite as 
valuable in its present condition, for in it are to be found speci- 
mens of Mr. Allston's methods in nearly every stage, from the 
beginning to the completion of a work, as they will be able to 
study in it the changes in the artist's manner since the first fin- 
ishing of the picture as well as the last process. 

" The figure of Daniel seems nearly perfect, with the excep- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 339 

tion of the right hand. This was at one time finished in accord- 
ance with the original design as seen in the colored sketch. It 
there hangs passive by his side ; but Mr. Stuart, having sug- 
gested to Mr. Allston that by clenching the hand more anima- 
tion would be given to the action, he began the alteration but 
proceeded no further than the dead color when he became satis- 
fied of the superiority of his own conception, and mentioned to 
several of his friends that he intended to restore the hand as it 
was before. Since his death, one of these friends expressed a 
desire that the old hand might be restored by cleaning off the 
dead color, and the experiment was begun by uncovering a very 
small portion ; it was found, however, that the old hand was so 
completely effaced before painting over it as to render the resto- 
ration hopeless. The new hand was not painted precisely over 
the old one, and the attempt was abandoned. 

" In the upper part of the picture, on the right, are to be seen 
a number of lines laying down the perspective of the architec- 
ture. Some confusion here arises from the mixture of the out- 
lines of the architecture with what are technically termed the 
working lines. They show that an alteration in this part was 
contemplated, and to a certain degree accomplished. The ex- 
treme corner which would have contained the writing is in a very 
unfinished state. The old painting has here again been rubbed 
down, and the picture loses much of its intended effect for the 
want of the supernatural light which was to have proceeded from 
this spot as a focus. 

" It only remains to note the few chalk outlines which were 
necessarily removed before varnishing : 

"1. A small outline around the toes of the left foot of the 
King, showing that it was to be lengthened a little. 

" 2. Another depressing the heel of the left foot of Daniel, a 
correction which probably became necessary from the change in 
the perspective. 



34:0 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

" 3. In the left upper corner of the picture there is a green 
curtain, which, hanging from the gallery, nearly covers one of the 
pillars. This curtain has been pumiced down, or cleaned nearly 
away with spirits. Over it the outlines of the whole of the pil- 
lar was laid down in chalk, as though Mr. Allston intended to 
represent it entire. These lines were drawn, not only over the 
curtain, but over a part of the 'golden candlestick.' It is a 
matter of conjecture whether this candlestick was to have been 
repainted in different proportion or form, or what was the nature 
of the change to be made. It could hardly have been his inten- 
tion to dispense with it entirely, since in the account given in the 
Scriptures it serves to fix the locality of the handwriting, which 
is described as having been seen c over against the golden can- 
dlestick."' 

Following is the other and anonymous account alluded to : 
" You well know it has been the desire of my life to behold 
the ' great picture,' as Mr. Allston's ' Belshazzar ' was called. It 
was a hope which I scarce believed would ever be realized, but 
it has been, and to-day, under circumstances of peculiar interest, 
I visited it, and felt a solemn awe stealing over my soul as I 
found myself standing before that mighty work. A hallowed 
presence seemed to pervade the room ; it was as if the spirit of 
Allston, in his calm majesty, stood near, and by silent thought 
conveyed the instruction, the deep and mighty meaning he there 
symbolized ! Under hallowed influences, crowding fast on mind 
and heart, did I first behold this magnificent production. You 
wish to know my first impressions — under their immediate in- 
fluence, therefore, I write you. The picture is unfinished ; the 
heart, the mind, the imagination of the artist grew with his 
work, and he could not be satisfied, in the advancing state of 
his mental and moral faculties, with that which did not fully 
develop and do justice to the feelings and passions he would 
delineate, and which with every year's life he more fully un- 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 341 

derstood, as every Christian does, who, studying his own heart 
learns equally to read the hearts of others. 

" There is an overwhelming power in every part of this glori- 
ous work. Belshazzar, who is the first figure on the left, and 
around whom is concentrated so much to interest the beholder, 
is formed, and was once entirely completed, but it is now the 
wreck of greatness ; and a fearful lesson, in his seemingly muti- 
lated figure, of the crushing of the wicked. In the convulsed 
hand and foot one can almost see and touch the muscles quiver- 
ing with horror, and from these more finished portions we can 
form some conception of the strength of emotion which the 
countenance was intended to express. It is a masterly produc- 
tion even as it is. 

" Then the Queen — truly worthy her name. She looks the 
proud, imperious princess, a woman endowed with great power, 
and naturally accustomed to, and capable of, perfect self-control. 
There is an expression in her countenance as if she would rather 
die than betray her emotion ; but, nevertheless, the intense work- 
ings of her soul, which she vainly struggles to repress and con- 
ceal, are visible in every feature. The haughty eye quails before 
that awful and mysterious light which is shedding such super- 
natural brightness on every object, and her compressed lip and 
convulsed features evince but too plainly that she is under the 
influence of feelings too powerful to resist or subdue. Her 
hands also speak, as well as the countenance ; one might stand 
before her for hours, imagining the workings of her agitated 
soul. 

" Daniel, the mighty and holy, ' the man of excellent spirit, 
in whom were found light and understanding and wisdom like 
the wisdom of the gods,' is the central figure, of most command- 
ing power. Surrounded as he is by human passion in its storm- 
iest aspects, his characteristic bearing as a prophet of the Most 
High, is made beautifully prominent. Majesty, truth, and a 



342 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

heavenly repose are in him united, breathed in every lineament ; 
but that eye — in it is blended pity, severity, and calm self-pos- 
session, as he looks upon the guilty and terror-stricken monarch. 
"With the compassion of a man he would willingly have mercy 
on the being he condemns, but in the stern necessity of his pro- 
phetic character he must reveal that which is shadowed forth in 
his vision, the departing glory of Belshazzar, with all his honor 
and brightness, as in violence and blood his kingdom is wrested 
from him. 

" Had Allston ever allowed himself to portray the Saviour, 
and chosen as his subject ' Christ rebuking the people,' I think 
the expression would not have been unlike that of Daniel. In 
the whole attitude there seems to be this sentiment, I am the 
prophet of Him who is God, and there is no other God beside 
him. He who spake, and ail things sprang into existence. He 
whose honor, thou, O King, hast trampled in the dust, and whose 
power thou hast scorned. He has sent me unto thee, and from 
the message so mysteriously revealed there is no escape. Listen ! 
We seem to hear his lofty renunciation of Belshazzar's kingly 
gifts and princely rewards, as he says, ' Let them be to thyself, 
yet will I read the writing unto the king, and make known to 
him the interpretation.' His left arm is uplifted, its power is 
irresistible. Near the prophet are some fine female figures, ap- 
parently prostrate in reverence of him. 

" The foreground is completed by a group of astrologers, 
Chaldeans, and soothsayers, most majestic in form ; but those 
countenances ! Of all the faces I ever saw on earth, or conceived 
could dwell below, these are the most perfect embodiment of 
every malignant passion which baffled skill and mortified pride 
could call from the depths of a depraved human heart. Anger, 
malice, bitterness, and hatred seem contending for mastery. 
Their fierce glances, emanations of those inward fires which al- 
most consume them, seem as if they would annihilate the de- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 343 

spised Hebrew captive, whose instantaneous comprehension and 
simple exposition of the mysterious and magical characters had 

" ' Made Chaldea's wisdom dim ! ' 

"Directly above this group is the handwriting which has 
been the cause of their humiliation, its light is the light of the 
picture, and the intention of the artist was to have it of the in- 
tense brightness as in ' Uriel,' but the finishing touches can now 
never be given. 

"A friend observed as a beautiful proof of the divinely im- 
parted power of Daniel, that he could instantly discover the 
perfect form of those mystic characters, and as directly reveal 
them, and their interpretation, whereas the Chaldeans could 
not gaze into the depths of that glorious light with sufficient 
strength to read the symbols of their own language. ' Their eyes 
were holden, that they could not see ! ' But the moment the 
holy glance of the Almighty's prophet rested thereon, the mys- 
tery was solved, and this circumstance, added to the contempt 
with which they hitherto regarded Daniel, increased the mystifi- 
cation of their defeat. 

" In the intervals between the figures which occupy the fore- 
ground is seen the banquet-table, gleaming with the rich treas- 
ures — once so sacredly consecrated to the Temple service in the 
holy city, now so ingloriously appropriated. All around, and in 
the gallery above, are seated the lords and princes who had 
gathered for the last time to join in the revels of the doomed 
monarch. In the background is seen the heathen idol who pre- 
sides over this scene of revelry, so soon changed to agony and 
despair. A lamp, which is suspended above, pours upon the 
statue a strong, but still a distant, light. The effect is inimita- 
ble. The architecture is solemn and grand, but it is evidently a 
secondary consideration with the artist, whose great design was 
to delineate the Divine power, and the passions of the human 



344 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

heart under various influences; and most wonderfully has he 
succeeded. 

" I feel that the memory or the fame of Allston can never 
die. I feel that the years to come will raise a proud monument 
to him in every heart that appreciates the noble art to which he 
devoted all the best powers of his intellectual, moral, and physi- 
cal nature. Well may we say, ' The mind that was among us, in 
its works is embalmed.' With all the excellences of this splen- 
did work many will find themselves unsatisfied in their antici- 
pations — those who look at it hastily and without feeling, 
without knowledge of human nature, without appreciation of 
that wonderful art which can make the canvas seem to breathe. 
One who will read carefully the fifth chapter of Daniel, and then 
give himself thoughtfully to the study of ' Belshazzar's Feast' 
will find ample compensation in his own soul for the hours he 
spends there. The religious power of the picture will impress 
him at once, and the feeling will deepen continually. There is 
repose only on one brow, that of God's faithful servant. 

" Sir Joshua Reynolds assures us that it took him three 
weeks to discover the beauty of the frescoes in the Vatican. 
To some observers the unfinished state in which ' Belshazzar's 
Feast ' is presented to the world would be sufficient reason for 
their not beholding any beauty in it that they should desire it. 
But there are many circumstances that may one day be revealed 
to the world which would make it a thousandfold more interest- 
ing to behold it just as it is, and we view it as a precious relic, 
the dearer for lacking the finishing stroke of that masterly hand ; 
and we, as a nation, are honored and happy in possessing this 
noble production of so lofty and pure a mind, and that on 
which the last trace of his pencil rested." 

Allston's picture of "Belshazzar" is a symbol of artistic 
power ; it is also a record of genius failing to fulfil its concep- 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 345 

tions, not from lack of ability, but for want of mental stimulus 
and favoring circumstances. It was to be paid for by subscrip- 
tions of $1,000 each from ten gentlemen. A part of this amount 
was advanced when the order was given, thus imposing at the 
outset the obligation to finish it. That obligation was most un- 
fortunate ; it was a crushing weight upon Allston for over twenty 
years. It did, as it were, overreach and destroy its purpose ; it 
introduced an incongruous and obstructive element into his mo- 
tives and incitements to work. As a debt, it was an unfavorable 
and paralyzing influence. " I can paint under affliction," said he, 
" but to paint under debt ! " 

Had Allston been spared the feeling of obligation for the 
money advanced, his mind would have strengthened his hand 
with his former confidence, and "Belshazzar" would probably 
have been finished some twenty years before death arrested his 
brush wet with the color of the Soothsayer's face. Allston had 
demonstrated his ability to paint rapidly, and on his return to 
Boston from Europe, in 1818, " Belshazzar " was nearly com- 
pleted. 

Mr. J. H. Hayward, in a letter to Mr. Dana, wrote as follows : 
" A day or two previous to my departure for Europe he invited 
me to visit his picture of ' Belshazzar,' not only on my own ac- 
count, but that I might give an account of it to Messrs. Leslie 
and Newton on my arrival in London. To the best of my recol- 
lection and belief, when I first saw it, it was finished, not in part, 
but in tofo. I said to Mr. Allston, ' What more can you possibly 
add ? Why, is not the picture done ? ' ' It is done,' he replied, 
'and I am only glazing and retouching.' On taking leave I said, 
* When shall I tell your friends in London that the picture will 
be open for exhibition ? ' ' You may tell them,' he replied, ' that 
it will certainly be out in the course of October.' This was, I 
think, on the 8th of September, 1821." 

By encouraging approval or praise, an artist's friends may, 



346 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

and often do, finish his pictures. " Belshazzar," so far as All- 
ston's work upon it was concerned, was finished in 1821. It was 
nearly done when he left London in 1818, but in bringing it to 
America he brought it away from all stimulating and reassuring 
influences. A sensitive imagination like Allston's is self-ques- 
tioning, self-critical, and self-doubting. When so important a 
work as " Belshazzar," one so charged with responsibility spring- 
ing from the consciousness of high expectation on the part of his 
friends concerning it, is left to the artist's sole judgment — when 
there is no one competent, whom he may call in to share the re- 
sponsibility of pronouncing it a success, he becomes a prey to 
doubts and fears, imagination quickens apprehension, and he is 
overcome by misgivings that he cannot control. The reaction of 
the mind upon itself in solitude is unhealthy, and most unfavora- 
ble to the execution of any work of genius. The stronger the 
imagination, the more important the fellowship with those of 
similar tastes and attainments. 

A poet with nature and his books about him may need noth- 
ing more, but a painter must be among painters. The attrition 
of kindred minds is indispensable to great results in art. Imag- 
ination must have something human besides its own creations to 
strengthen it. The mind that feeds only upon itself has entered 
upon a process of mental starvation. Contact, even with inferior 
minds, may impart a modicum of strength, but isolation, for an 
artist, is always a condition of weakness and decline. Allston's 
transition from the society of artists in London, to that of his 
friends in Boston, was, in its relation to his art, for a while un- 
felt, and, it may be, unsuspected. The glow of his reception, the 
genial whole-heartedness of the welcome given him by his en- 
thusiastic admirers, buoyed his spirits, allowing no sense of loss. 
Feted continually, encouraged with substantial and liberal patron- 
age on all sides, the central figure of interest in the society of in- 
tellectual men, whose appreciation manifested itself in words and 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 347 

deeds of refinement and generosity, there was no place for a sense 
of deficiency in artistic conditions. 

This diversion of his mind continued to hold him up from 
a realization of his loss in leaving England. It may not have 
been till he opened his studio in Cambridgeport, and had passed 
through the exciting novelty of his situation there that he fully 
realized the want of artistic influences, which he had left in 
London. His mind was creative to a degree that could people 
his painting-room with visions of beauty. Thus gifted he might 
have whiled away the years unconscious of artistic loneliness or 
any sense of loss ; but his dream-life, which could minister to 
him so constantly and pleasingly, was soon disturbed by pecuni- 
ary embarrassment, and we have the saddening picture of a man 
capable of the highest attainment in the sphere of the highest 
art, awakened and distressed by the cruel touch of want. 

In his large, new painting-room, constructed to meet his re- 
quirements in painting large pictures, " Belshazzar " was unrolled, 
with its back to the eastern wall. Its 12 x 16 feet of surface 
was screened by a curtain so arranged as to be easily drawn aside. 
No eye but his was to see the picture during its progress. Leon- 
ard Jarvis, in his letter to Mr. Dana, extracts of which we have 
given elsewhere, says : " "Whenever I visited your capital I made 
it a point to seek out my old friend (Allston). On one occasion 
I urged him to show me his ' Belshazzar.' He entreated me not 
to press my request, ' For,' said he, ' it gives me pain to refuse 
you, but if that picture were seen by any person, I should never 
finish it. I know,' continued he, ' that this is a weakness, but I 
cannot help it.'" 

To the same purport is the following letter from Mr. Sargent : 

"Boston, September 2, 1844. 

" To K. H. Dana, Esq. 

Dear Sep.: In reply to your inquiries, in the note of 31st ult. 
this moment received, I can only say that I purchased an estate 



848 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

of the late Jol i n IVinco, in Pearl ami Milk Streets, January 28j 
1S V _5S; there was a, stable thereon about 25 x 15 foot. The stable 

is still standing. That stable was approaohed from Milk Street, 
over land now oovered by stores j and there Mr. AJlston wrought 
on the great pioture. How Long he had been the tenant of Mr. 

Prince, I know not; ho was mine but a. short time. 

"His great simplicity of oharaoter struck me very forcibly. 
When he heard of my having purchased the estate, ho came to 

Bee me, and appeared perplexed and pained by some prospective 
trouble, which for sonic time, I could not comprehend. k I was 
wholly unprepared for this,' said he. k 1 fear it will oause me a 
good deal of embarrassment.' 

"'Not at all, sir,' I replied. 'There is not the slightest oo* 
Oasion far it; yon can remain perfectly at ease until you find bet- 
ter accommodations,' 

"'But my trouble, sir,' he rejoined, l is as to the manner in 
which your men will enter the building.' 

" 'My men will not have occasion to enter that building, Mr. 

Allslon.' 

"'Yes, to take possession they will, yon know, and I wish to 
ask if they cannot enter with their backs toward the picture ?' 
I at once comprehended his difficulty, and assured him that the 
old English livery of seizin was unnecessary here, and that by 
our Law a constructive delivery o'i possession was enough. He 
seemed highly delighted j but, after taking Leave of me, and 

going part way down-stairs, he came back, with some anxiety On 

his countenance, to ask me if I was quite sure. 

"Yours with regard, 

"L. M. Sargent." 

It is painful to contemplate Allston's shivery to a morbid sen- 
sitiveness ; to the unreasonable Influence of a mistaken idea; to 
a conviction, upon the fifth unrolling of " Belshazzar," that ho 



WA8HINGT0B ALLBTOB 840 

hid no right to. i & '.jontjoui-jy. undertake 

other work tiiJ thai m}, and control of hk 

thought apfflfl I 'Tjkj/jr/|y jJJ Offaated by U.o follow- 

ing incident, told by !•- EL J>>;;./.;;. ; .Jr. i 

" When Lord Bforpei on, in the winter of \<4\, 

iJhtou, and in the on bIHkM 

to ' f '.' - the Dneh* 

|////;KhJon of it; and added, 

' She i l me to §ay to .Mr. AHatoo tb 

if ahe could hare anothei 
ore from I And (hen after examining 

!./. Lor< hip be allowed to dietsfa 

would ' 'Jo thie 

All- to 

uriplimenl . Ouoh< .'and, and 

children, 
m die ha 

]'.:.: . . 

The writer, •. - 

tttifuHy octtlined aketcb of Hie 

" r '.: 'I Hania/' : 

which :.o. I' 

..-..deJi- 

had : '.'/.\>\;uu\: 

While tl. /I he v.-an Krimaelf the object 

• . ■ - .- . . 
HkilfuJ] y ( would flow fan 

J / feel 
penaa m wan i 

that time by an 

Twerr dollar* : 



350 . WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

sider, would have disembarrassed him and enabled him to finish 
" Belshazzar ; " would have taken him out of daily stress for 
money, and doubtless prolonged his life, by the assurance of a 
peaceful independence. Certainly every consideration of pru- 
dence should have counselled his curtaining " Belshazzar " for a 
time sufficient to execute so important and tempting a commis- 
sion. But his conscience was imperious. He would accept the 
order only on condition that the Duchess would wait till he had 
finished his great picture. This was an indefinite postponement, 
for " Belshazzar " was then more unfinished than it was when he 
brought it to America, over twenty years before. " I would not," 
said he, "undertake to paint a picture for any crowned head in 
Christendom till ' Belshazzar ' is finished." This extravagance 
of morbid sensibility was the outcome of a mind that had brooded 
upon one subject till it had lost the power of estimating its true 
relations to himself or to others — a mind that in solitude had 
contemplated unimportant considerations till they were magni- 
fied and distorted, till folly seemed wisdom, and reason imprac- 
ticable. The Duchess of Sutherland's commission might have 
been executed in a few months. Allston could have secured the 
services of some young artist (there were several at the time in 
Boston fully competent) who could have traced on a new canvas 
the outlines of the picture, and, under his direction, laid it in, and 
accomplished the greater portion of the manual labor requisite, 
carrying it so far that Allston could easily have finished it in six 
months. Moreover, according to custom in England, the Duch- 
ess would have advanced part of the compensation agreed upon, 
an amount quite sufficient to pay his debts, and provide amply 
for his expenses while at work on her picture. But to a mind so 
hedged about by visionary considerations acting upon his moral 
sensibility, no scheme, however simple and obvious, could enlist 
the effort to carry it out. 

The experiment of employing an assistant to work on "Bel- 



Outline Sketch of Titanias Fairy Court. 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 














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WASHINGTON ALLSTON 351 

shazzar " had been proposed, and he had received it favorably. 
But that which commended itself to his judgment found no re- 
sponse in his energy or will. He seemed unable, at this period, 
to diverge from the path and methods he had followed, though 
they were carrying him farther and farther from his purpose. 
The vigor of youth had passed, its ambitions and its sustaining 
hopes were gone, when he undertook, single-handed, to complete 
the difficult and laborious work of reconstructing his great pict- 
ure on a new theory as to its perspective. This theory involved 
a change in the point of sight. He had made it, as he thought, 
too high for a picture which, from its size, would naturally be 
placed above the eye of the spectator. But even a reconstruc- 
tion so radical could have been accomplished with comparative 
ease by starting de novo ; much perplexing confusion would have 
been avoided by making on a new canvas the extensive altera- 
ions involved. To alter the point of sight in a picture is to 
change the relations of all its parts to each other, a work of 
incalculable difficulty in so large a painting. 

In estimating "Belshazzar " as a work of art, we cannot urge 
too strongly a consideration of the unfinished and transition 
state in which it was left by Allston, and is now seen. In the 
accumulations of a studio there is usually much unfinished 
work — outlines, sketches, dead colors, and studies — that the artist 
would not show to anyone, and by which it would be unfair to 
measure his capabilities as a painter. The accumulations of 
many years were taken from Allston's studio, and are now placed, 
with a discrimination that in many instances gives prominence 
to his poorest work. We can find no justifying cause for an ex- 
posure so out of harmony with his known disposition to screen 
his unfinished work from the public eye. 

The propriety of exhibiting " Belshazzar " in its present con- 
dition was questioned, but the public interest in the picture 
soon after Allston's 'death seemed to demand its exposition. 



352 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

We think there should be appended to it a brief statement in 
explanation of its apparent incongruities and contradictions. 
When we consider how sensitive Allston was about showing this 
picture, how careful that it should not be seen, even when, with 
the exception of a little retouching and glazing, it was, as he 
said, finished, we feel that it is almost a breach of confidence to 
exhibit it, even under the best conditions of light and place. 
But to allow it to be seen where the position of the spectator 
distorts the perspective is, to say the least, a great injustice. 

In the " Allston Boom," so called, of the Boston Museum of 
Tine Arts, though shared by Stuart, Copley, and others, there 
are few pictures by Allston that the common observer would re- 
gard as the work of more than an ordinary artist, while there 
are several that do not rise even to that prominence. In a part 
of the building remote from the " Allston Room " there are a 
few outlines, very beautiful, though representing only the first 
stage of his work. But where is " Belshazzar," the picture upon 
which he had expended so much thought and labor — which 
had occupied him at intervals for more than half his working 
life — the picture about which so much has been said and more 
written than of any contemporaneous work of art — the most 
historic picture ever painted by an American? It is not in the 
" Allston Room," it is not in any of the galleries ; but high up 
in the hallway of the stairs leading to the galleries it hangs, 
where it cannot be judged intelligently and fairly. 

The proper distance at which to view a picture is at least 
twice its length ; the proper place to stand in viewing it is at the 
point of station directly in front of the point of sight. It is im- 
possible so to view " Belshazzar " where it now hangs. We can- 
not wonder that anyone whose opinion of Allston is formed from 
his pictures, as exhibited in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, 
should express disappointment and a strong conviction that he is 
not entitled to the high rank given him by his contemporaries. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 353 

In arranging a gallery of paintings the demands of space and 
symmetry often prevent due and proper consideration of their 
requirements in reference to tone, light, and distance. The diffi- 
culty of assigning proper positions to a large number of pictures 
is well known to be very great. We are far from censuring as 
intentional the injustice to " Belshazzar," but certainly no artist 
could have so placed it without knowing that he was damaging 
the picture and the reputation of its author. The very object 
which led Allston to attempt the extremely difficult task of lower- 
ing the point of sight was to overcome the bad effect of a slight 
elevation above the eye of the spectator. It is obvious that no 
change contemplated by him could overcome the bad effect of 
its present elevation. 

Why not put " Belshazzar " in the " Allston Boom ? " Why 
not let it hang on the wall opposite the large door of that room, 
thus occupying the place of honor, in which it could be seen at a 
good distance as you approach the entrance ? The place is in 
every way suitable, and the difficulty of rearrangement involved 
by no means insurmountable. If grandeur of conception and 
forceful delineation of feeling, from its simplest to its subt- 
lest manifestation ; if ideality, imagination, fancy, and dramatic 
power are of value; if these enter into, and by their obvious 
presence measure greatness in pictorial representations, then 
" Belshazzar " is incomparably the greatest picture on the walls 
of the Museum of Art, and yet it is in a position unworthy of the 
poorest, and, as we think, needlessly so. In the interest of art, 
in the interest of the memory of a great man, who left his im- 
press on foreign schools, and did more for art in America than 
any other painter of his time, " Belshazzar " should be so placed 
as to be seen to advantage. To retain it in its present position 
is, by disregarding the requirements of the picture, a great in- 
justice to the memory of its author. Better roll it up once more, 

and forever. 
23 



CHAPTEK XXVIII. 

RECOLLECTIONS OF WASHINGTON ALLSTON BY R. H. DANA, JR. — HIS 
PREFERENCE OF REYNOLDS TO VANDYKE. — OPINIONS ON THE 
OLD MASTERS, AND VARIOUS OTHER SUBJECTS. 

The late Bichard H. Dana, Jr., whose father, it will be re- 
membered, was Allston's brother-in-law, left interesting memo- 
randa of recollections of Allston : 

" When Mr. Allston was at Petworth he was one day looking 
at a portrait of Vandyke's, when Lord Egremont coming up, 
asked his opinion of it. 

" ' Yery fine,' said he, * and had I not known it to be Van- 
dyke's I should have supposed it to be one of Sir Joshua's.' 

" ' Do you mean to compliment Vandyke or Sir Joshua ? ' 
said his Lordship. 

" ' Vandyke,' answered Mr. Allston. 

"'Then you think him inferior to Sir Joshua?' said Lord 
Egremont. 

" ' Yes, I do,' said Mr. Allston. 

" ' So do I,' said his Lordship, ' though I hardly dare to say 
so.' 

" This anecdote Mr. Allston related when nearly sixty years 
of age, and added that he had never seen reason for changing his 
opinion. ' Sir Joshua,' said he, ' wanted Vandyke's correctness. 
He did not draw so well, but he had more genius.' 

" Allston took great pleasure in reading Talfourd's ' Life and 
Letters of Lamb.' He had been intimate with Lamb when in 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 355 

London, and was much attached to him. He told several anec- 
dotes of him, which, I believe, are not told by Talfourd. Among 
them were the following : 

" Lamb was present when a naval officer was giving an ac- 
count of an action which he had been in, and to illustrate the 
carelessness and disregard of life at such times said that a sailor 
had both his legs shot off, and as his shipmates were carrying 
him below, another shot came and took off both his arms ; they, 
thinking he was pretty much used up, though life was still in 
him, threw him out of a port. 

" ' Shame, d d shame,' stuttered out Lamb, ' he m-m-might 

have 1-lived to have been an a-a-ornament to society ! ' 

" Mr. Allston was on a visit to Coleridge, at Bath or Bristol, 
when Coleridge received a letter from Lamb, in which he 
that he was to dine that evening with the Worshipful Company 
of Fishmongers, and as he expected to have a glorious time he 
had spoken for a couple of watchmen and a window-shutter to 
take him home." 

" Once, in company with Lamb and Coleridge, with a few 
others, Coleridge spoke very highly of a ' Dr. Bell.' ' Pooh ! ' 
said Lamb, very gravely, ' that is only because you are so fond 
of Mrs. Bell' 

" After Coleridge and Lamb had left, Allston asked a gentle- 
man present if it was true that Coleridge was much attached 
to Mrs. Bell, for he had never heard him speak of her. 

" ' Oh,' said the gentleman, ' that's only Lamb's nonsense. 
The poor woman has been in a madhouse these forty years.' 

" Allston became intimately acquainted with Coleridge, and 
they were continually together during a residence of several 
months in Rome. When Coleridge was at Highgate he was 
often there for days together. He had the highest admiration. 
nay, reverence, for Coleridge's powers of mind, and he loved him 
as a man and a friend ; and, what was still more, he looked up 



356 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

to him as a sincere and humble Christian. He often spoke of 
Coleridge as having been of the greatest advantage to his mind 
in every way — in his art, in poetry, and in his opinions and 
habits of thought generally — and also to his religious character. 

" Nothing ever pained Allston more than to hear anyone (as 
some men inclined to do from difference of political, but more 
especially of religious, opinions) speak slightingly of Coleridge, or 
sneeringly of him as a man, a husband, a friend, and. a Christian. 

" Allston once told me an anecdote, which he never told to 
more than one or two besides, and then with a wish that it might 
be kept secret. 

" Many of Coleridge's enemies made a handle of his separa- 
tion from his wife to injure his character, and Mr. Allston was 
often asked in America what he knew of the matter. He always 
answered that it was an amicable separation ; that Coleridge 
always spoke very respectfully of his wife, and had behaved very 
honorably to her in the matter. However, he told my father 
and myself an anecdote which plainly showed the cause of the 
separation, but he enjoined upon us never to repeat it during the 
lifetime of Coleridge or himself ; ' For,' said he, ' nothing ever 
could give Coleridge greater pain then to be defended at the ex- 
pense of his wife, and therefore I have never told this anecdote 
before, and should not feel right in telling it generally, even 
after Coleridge's death ; but as it goes to show one probable 
reason for his conduct, I cannot but wish to have it preserved.' 

" Mrs. Gillman told Mr. Allston that the younger sister of Mrs. 
Coleridge, when upon her deathbed, said that Coleridge would 
never be able to live with her sister, for she had the most hor- 
rible temper that she had ever known or heard of ; that she was 
both irascible and implacable, and that when they were girls at a 
boarding-school they were glad when the vacations were over, 
and they were to go back to school, for her terrible temper made 
the house so uncomfortable to them. This she told Mrs. Gill- 



WASHINGTON- ALLSTON 357 

man upon her deathbed, when speaking of her family and of Mr. 
Coleridge. She lived with them some time after their marriage, 
and said that no one could behave better than Mr. Coleridge to 
her sister. Mrs. Gillman told this in serious and secret conver- 
sation with Mr. Allston. 

" When Mr. Allston and Coleridge were travelling in Italy 
they stopped at a miserable inn, where Mr. Allston, for want 
of something better to do, took up an execrable book and was 
reading it when Coleridge came in. He showed it to him and 
said that he had been much amused with the exceeding badness 
of the style ; but Coleridge advised him to put it down, saying : 

" ' You may think that it amuses you, but you had better be 
doing nothing. You cannot touch pitch without being defiled.' 

" Coleridge knew human nature, but he was an indifferent dis- 
criminator of persons. Mr. Allston tells an anecdote which was 
related to him by a literary friend, whose name I have forgotten, 
illustrating this. He was travelling with Coleridge in Scotland 
when they fell in with a party of fashionables from London ad- 
miring a waterfall. ' Magnificent,' said one of the cockneys. 

" Coleridge was struck with the appropriateness of the epithet, 
and without suspecting, as any man with a pair of eyes might 
have done, that it was the result of chance, turned to him and 
commenced talking about the waterfall and giving many reasons 
why ' magnificent ' was the proper epithet, and not sublime, or 
beautiful, or any other. His friend thought that Coleridge was 
wasting time and sense, and the event proved it ; for the cockney 
turned and lisped out, with a perfectly unmoved expression : 

" ' Yery true, sir ; not only magnificent, but sublime and 
beautiful.' 

" ' Come away, Coleridge,' said his friend, taking his arm. 

" Allston spent the greater part of a day in walking through 
Caen wood with Coleridge, and talking upon future punishment. 
Coleridge expressed his belief in it very distinctly and strongly ; 



358 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

and Allston has often spoken of the emphasis and effect with 
which he brought in the words, ' As a tree falleth, so shall it lie.' 

" Allston was sitting with Mrs. Gillman and Coleridge in the 
garden at Highgate, when Coleridge read to them something 
which he had written, in which was the following passage : ' A 
Scotchman is a superficial German and a dull Frenchman.' Mrs. 
Gillman remonstrated with him, and asked him how he could be 
willing, by a single sentence, to get the ill-will and hurt the feel- 
ings of a whole nation. After a little conversation between Cole- 
ridge and Allston, Mrs. Gillman said that she thought he had 
better strike it out, and added, 'And I will give you my rea- 
sons.' 

" ' No, madam ; don't, for God's sake,' said Coleridge, ' for if 
you do you will spoil the whole. A woman judges by her in- 
stinct, and not by reason. I'll strike it out, but I've more re- 
spect for your first impression than I should probably have for 
your argument.' 

" Coleridge told Allston that he was once travelling in a stage- 
coach with Southey, when they had for their fellow-passenger a 
watchmaker who was a self-taught man and was very much given 
to reading poetry. Hearing Southey call Coleridge by his sur- 
name he asked whether he was the Mr. Coleridge who had re- 
cently published a volume of poems, and finding he was the 
same, praised them very much, especially a dialogue, which he 
pronounced capital. 

" ' I don't remember any dialogue among them,' said Cole- 
ridge. 

" ' Oh, yes,' said the man ; ' it was between Strophe (pro- 
nounced in one syllable) and Anti Strophe. It was capital, but, 
to tell the truth, I think Strophe had it, all hollow ! ' 

"Coleridge was engaged for some time in writing for the 
Courier , and when he left it, the editor, Mr. Stewart, a clear- 
headed Scotchman, who had known a good deal of the world 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 359 

from having conducted for many years that leading political jour- 
nal, said to him, 'Well, Mr. Coleridge, you say you must leave 
me. I am sorry you are going. Before I knew you, sir, I did 
not believe there was a man of principle in the world.' 

" When Allston was in Italy there was an English artist there 
who had lived abroad more than in England, and affected to hate 
his own country, and was a man of rather bad character. Allston 
painted a picture which was much admired for its clouds. This 
artist asked him how he produced his effect, and Mr. Allston 
told him freely how he managed his colors. 

" The English artist then began a picture and endeavored to 
paint clouds in the same manner. Allston went into his studio, 
and finding that he had been partly misunderstood, took the 
brush into his own hands and painted for him until he had made 
him master of the mode. Coleridge said to Allston, ' You are 
doing yourself no good, and him a favor for which he will not 
thank you.' Allston doubted the man's ingratitude, and said 
that at all events he was not sorry he had done him a kindness. 
Coleridge, to try the man, went to his studio and praised the 
picture, especially the clouds. The man made no explanation. 
Coleridge then went further and said, 'You've got Allston's 
clouds, or Allston's method of painting clouds.' ' Oh,' said the 
man, 'we knew all that before.' 

" Allston told artists all that he knew. Other artists discover 
a mode and keep it to themselves. Allston opened his knowl- 
edge to all. 

" My father said he never could forget the delightful expres- 
sion with which Allston came from seeing Haydon's picture of 
' Christ's Entry into Jerusalem.' His eye beamed, his whole 
face lighted up, and he looked as though he had received pure 
delight. My father, who had seen it, said, 'But is not there 
this and that defect ? ' 

"'Oh, yes,' said Allston; 'but the picture has genius and 



360 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

life in it. It has glorious parts, and one need not see its de- 
fects.' Nor did he ever speak of its defects. 

" He always cited with approbation a story of an Italian artist 
who praised a statue, and when his pupils pointed out defects, 
glaring defects in one place and another, admitted them all, and 
said there were worse defects than those ; ' You have not men- 
tioned all, nor can you, but it's a glorious statue.' 

"A picture painted by him called 'Alpine Scenery,' and 
owned by Mr. Isaac P. Davis, was retouched by a picture-fin- 
isher and restored in Boston. Allston saw it and said, ' It is 
not my picture now.' The foreground was altered and the tone 
taken out of it. 

" He once told me he could paint the portraits of all his class 
in college, and he believed, of all who were in college with him, 
from recollection. If the names were given to him, he could call 
up the face to each name. 

" This anecdote I had from Dr. Channing. Mr. Allston had 
engaged to paint a picture for Mr. J. Phillips for $1,000. Mr. 
Phillips advanced $500. When the picture was done it was 
worth much more, at least $1,500, even at the rate of sales in 
America. Mr. Phillips was told of this, and he (or his agent) 
wrote Mr. Allston a line enclosing the $500, and telling him 
they were aware that the picture was worth more than the sum 
agreed, and asking him if he was willing they should send him 
$500 more. To this Allston replied that he could not now 
agree for more than he had first contracted with Mr. Phillips 
to paint the picture for, or something to that effect. But at 
the same time he told a friend that if Mr. Phillips had sent him 
the $500 without asking him to ask it for the picture and 
change his bargain, he would have accepted it, and been very 
glad of it. He knew the picture was worth the whole, and he 
would have received it if sent, but could not ask more for his 
picture than he had agreed upon. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 361 

" Chester Harding told Alexander the artist that at one time 
Allston was very much distressed for money, and driven to 
great straits, and that Harding, being then very intimate with 
Allston, and confident of his friendship, suggested to him that 
he could easily relieve himself by painting two or three pictures 
off hand ; that they would sell well, and though they might not 
do justice to his powers in all respects yet they would without 
doubt be clever and would pass muster very well, and be far 
better than any other of our artists could do. But he said he 
received as severe a rebuke from Allston as though he had sug- 
gested a forgery or peculation. 

" A friend lent him Carlyle's sketch of the character of Mira- 
beau, extracted from his ' French Revolution ' into the West- 
minster Revieiv. Soon afterward someone asked him what he 
thought of it. ' I do not see any original ideas in it, but I see 
a great deal of original English. He takes a common thought 
and belabors it with his Babylonish jargon until it appears like 
something original. The man has made a god of his own intel- 
lect, and worships it with perpetual summersets.' 

"Father says that Allston was invited to dine with Stuart 
Newton, who had just come from London, and that he went an- 
ticipating great pleasure from hearing of the English artists, and 
of all that was doing in the art in London. But he came back 
quite dejected. On being asked about it, he said, ' I have not 
heard a single man praised.' 

" The last time Mrs. Dana spent an evening at Allston's this 
incident occurred, showing his great kindness and simplicity. 
She had mislaid her bag, and when we were ready to go she 
mentioned that she could not find it. Some search was made, but 
to no purpose, and it was given up for the time. We observed 
that Mr. Allston rose from his seat, lighted a lamp, and went 
out of the room ; but as he often did this, we thought nothing 
particularly of it. A minute or two after this, as we passed 



362 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

through the entry to go away, we gave another look into the par- 
lor, thinking the bag might possibly be there, and, on opening 
the door, there we saw Mr. Allston, infirm and suffering from 
pain as he was, stooping down and looking under the sofa and 
tables to search for this bag. So secret did he mean to be in his 
kindness, that he actually blushed when we entreated him not to 
put himself to so much trouble for it. But for our looking into 
the room we should never have known that he had searched for 
the bag, had he been unsuccessful. When, after his death, we 
remembered this incident of so short a time before, it was very 
affecting. 

" The fall after his death, one day, a plain man, a house-car- 
penter in Cambridgeport, by the name of Litchfield, called at my 
office on business, and after he had got through the business he 
spoke of Mr. Allston, and expressed extreme interest in the great 
picture. Then he went on as follows : ' I always set a great 
deal by that man. He was a real gentleman, that man was. A 
good many sets up for it, but there are precious few. Now, 
Mr. Allston was what I call a real gentleman. I knew him 
very well. I lived next house to him ten years, and whenever 
I met him he always had something pleasant to say.' He then 
told me an anecdote of Allston which, he said, 'clinched' him in 
his opinion. When the painting-room was building, this Litch- 
field was employed in some way to make an estimate, out of the 
usual mode, for which he thought he ought to have been paid by 
the agent. The agent would not pay him, and he abided by the 
decision, yet he mentioned it to Mr. Allston, knowing that he 
was not responsible for any of the expenses, but hoping that he 
would mention it to the agent. Mr. Allston said at once, ' Mr. 
Litchfield, you ought to be paid. Don't say that I said so, for 
it is not my business, and I should not like to hurt the feelings 
of the agent, but you ought to be paid.' Litchfield knew that 
Allston did not own the building, and that he had no money to 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 363 

spare, and thought no more of it. Some six or eight years after 
this, one evening Mr. Allston sent for him to come into his room. 
' He was always polite,' said Litchfield, ' and he handed me a 
chair. He then brought to my mind the matter of the estimate, 
and said that he had always intended that I should be paid for it ; 
that he had never forgotten it, although he had not had it in his 
power to pay. He then took out a ten-dollar bill and asked me 
if that would satisfy me. I told him, ' Mr. Allston, I can't take 
so much. This is more than I ask for the work.' He tried to 
make me take it, saying that I had been out of the money for 
several years. At last he told me to take the bill and satisfy 
myself out of it. I took it and brought him back the change, de- 
ducting no more than the lowest price I could fix upon my labor. 
Now, he was not bound to pay me. He never made the bargain, 
and he told me not to tell any one, lest it should hurt the agent's 
feelings. I never have, until since his death.' He then expa- 
tiated upon Mr. Allston again, upon his polite manners and kind- 
ness to all people, and repeated, ' Yes, sir ; that man was a real 
gentleman ; I set great store by that man.' 

Following are some of Allston's sayings and comments, also 
recorded by Mr. Dana : 

" Hazlitt began by being an artist. I once saw a work of 
his ; it was a copy from Titian, and very well done. But he 
would not have gone far beyond copying, for he was entirely 
destitute of imagination. He once remarked to me that the 
English could have no great historical painters because the Eng- 
lish face was a poor one for a model. He seemed to have 
no idea that there could be any faces but portraits, and no idea 
of the art beyond its mimetic character. In the article which 
he furnished for the ' Encyclopedic Metropolitans ' he argues 
against the ideal in the art — against the liberty of the artist in 



364 WASHINaTON ALLSTON 

making use of the ideal ; and supports himself by appealing to 
Raphael. Now this was the very point in which Eaphael failed 
— in which he was inferior to Michael Angelo." 

" Lawrence had the bravura touch of the pencil — slap-dash — 
which always takes with novices. I was once at Mr. Anger- 
stein's gallery with Walker and a young artist of genius who was 
much taken by a portrait of Angerstein by Lawrence. In the 
next room was a portrait by Vandyke, and a masterpiece. We 
were expressing our admiration of it when our young friend 
said: 

" ' Yes, but I confess I like Sir Thomas better.' 

" ' Do you, sir ? ' said Walker. ' Indeed ! Well, sir, you 
won't think so long.' And he was right. 

u There is something technically called ' handling,' which in- 
variably surprises and delights the novice, but which is easily 
gotten and soon palls. A great picture has a simplicity about 
it, and is so true to reality that it seldom dazzles and surprises." 

" The finest head I ever painted, and for effect the best thing 
I ever did, or ever expect to do, was the agony of Judas, which I 
painted in Bristol, England. I showed it to a few friends who 
said that its effect upon them was as dreadful as it was upon 
me ; but I destroyed it in a few days, and for reasons which per- 
haps I could not make others understand as I felt them. It was 
not merely the distress I felt at looking on it, for I might have 
disposed of it and never seen it again, but I could not endure 
the thought of deriving an intellectual gratification or profes- 
sional reputation and pleasure from what I believed to be so 
dreadful a reality." 

" While I was in Florence I saw in a dream a female whom I 
may call perfectly beautiful. In form, feature, expression, and 
dress she was more perfect than anything that my highest im- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 365 

agination had ever conceived. Nothing in ancient or modern 
art is an approach to it, and if I conld have painted her with 
half her effect I should have painted the most beautiful object 
in the art. For several days afterward I was in a state of quiet, 
ethereal exaltation ; I felt in whatever I was about that some- 
thing peculiar had occurred to me, and could hardly realize that 
I was to act and be treated like other people. The vision, or 
perhaps the consciousness of something having occurred to me 
haunted me for months. It was a long time before I became 
fully awake on that subject." 

" I saw Madame de Stael at the illumination of St. Peter's. 
She had a beautiful hand and arm, and displayed them to great 
advantage by waving a wreath which she held in her hand, but 
a face like a figure-head — coarse features and a vulgar mouth." 

" Goethe must be a great man to carry so many great minds 
with him ; but he certainly knows nothing of my art. He does 
not enter into the philosophy of it. He knows neither its height 
nor its depth. His notions are jejune and those of a mechanic ; 
and even in the mechanical part he is for the most part false. 
He begins a paragraph as though he was going to lead his 
reader to some great truth, and when he has got him down to 
the middle of the well, he leaves him." 

" Too much stress cannot be laid upon the conformity of art 
to nature, but it should be remembered that nature is only the 
artist's starting-point." 

" Kembrandt was the Dry den of the art." 

" I have been more affected by music than I have ever been 
by either painting or poetry." 

" Pere la Chaise, at Paris, which you hear so much talked 
about, is the most finical baby-house that you can imagine. 



366 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Mount Auburn is much more beautiful by nature, and less 
spoiled by bad taste in art." 

"I never could feel that Canova had genius. The artists 
were doubting his genius twenty years ago in Italy, and now 
few artists call him a man of genius, though he has great value 
with the public." 



" Titian was poetical in color, and perhaps it is the only way 
in which he was poetical. Yet no one can be truer in objects of 
the senses than Titian. Tintoretto, however, sometimes made 
higher poetic flights in color than his master, though he did not 
seem to know it." 

" Eaphael was in painting what I take Mozart to have been 
in music. He was the painter of the affections. He had not 
the genius of Angelo, yet he will always have the sympathies 
of mankind with him. The creatures of Michael Angelo are 
often superhuman, the results of a glorious imagination ; but the 
creatures of Eaphael, beautiful as they are, have always a father 
and a mother." 

" I never met with a French artist who had a sense of the 
sublime. One of them defined the sublime to me as the Tres 
bien. I never saw a French painting that reached my higher 
nature. I have seen many such from the Italian, German, 
Dutch, Spanish, and English, but never from the French." 

" Coleridge told me that he could introduce me to the ac- 
quaintance of nearly all the authors in London, but he would 
not do it, for he would be sorry to have me know them. He 
told me seriously that he did not know so entirely worthless and 
despicable a set of men as the authors by profession in London, 
and warned me solemnly to avoid any intercourse with them." 






WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 367 

" I know the faults of my country, and there are few Ameri- 
cans who feel them more than I do, or have less confidence in 
our form of government, but I cannot endure to hear my coun- 
try abused by a foreigner. It makes my blood boil. If I were 
a fighting man I could challenge him for it in an instant. I will 
agree with him in his reasoning upon general principles of poli- 
tics, but he must not be personal." 

Here are some lines that Mr. Dana preserved, written by All- 
ston on an old pair of bellows : 

" Where'er I roam, whatever fires I see, 
My heart, untravelled, still returns to thee, 

My own dear bellows ! 
For gentle puff or energetic blast 
At crackling wood or sputtering coal thou hast 
Nowhere thy fellows ! " 



CHAPTEE XXIX. 

LETTEES ON ALLSTON TO E. H. DANA, SE., FEOM WOBDSWOETH ; 
WILLIAM CULLEN BEYANT ; C. E. LESLIE, E.A. ; W. F. COLLAED ; 
WILLIAM COLLINS, E.A. ; PEOFESSOE HENEY EEED ; COLONEL 

william deayton; w. y. deaeboen; CHAELES FEAZEE, AND 

JOSHUA H. HAYWAED. 

"We give in this chapter evidences from distinguished men of 
the profound impression Allston made upon them. These evi- 
dences form a peculiar tribute ; they are spontaneous attesta- 
tions of kindred souls to the purity and grace of his character. 
Twenty-five years had passed since he took leave of his friends 
in England and sailed for America. He never saw them again, he 
seldom wrote, his correspondence with them ceased long before 
his death. And yet after a quarter of a century of separation 
he was still in their memories and in their hearts. This is not 
a common testimony. There are not many who thus command 
the tears of friendship to bridge a chasm of so many years — to 
cross an ocean of time, and waters, with loving tributes. But 
our purpose is to let the letters of friends speak his praise. 
Those which follow were addressed, except where otherwise 
specified, to E. H. Dana, Sr. 

From Longfellow. 

" Cambridge, March 13, 1847. 
" My Deae Sib : I enclose you a few tributary lines, which I 
found in an out-of-the-way place, namely, Southey's ' Vision of 
Judgment,' and which peradventure you may have forgotten. 
" Faithfully yours, 

" Heney W. Longfellow." 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 369 

" . . . he who, returning 
Eich in praise to his native shores, hath left a remembrance 
Long to be honour'd and loved on the banks of Thames and of Tiber : 
So may America, prizing in time the worth she possesses, 
Give to that hand free scope, and boast hereafter of Allston." 

From Wordsworth, 

" I had heard much of Mr. Allston from Mr. Coleridge, and I 
should have thought it a high privilege to cultivate his friend- 
ship had opportunity allowed. Mr. Coleridge had lived on terms 
of intimacy with him at Rome ; they returned from Italy about 
the same time, and it was in London, there only, that I had 
the pleasure of seeing Mr. Allston at his own lodgings. He 
was well known, both through Coleridge and his own genius, to 
one of my most intimate friends, Sir George Beaumont, who 
always passed the spring season in London. Coleridge and he 
took great delight in referring to Mr. Allston's observations 
upon art and the works of the great masters they had seen to- 
gether in Rome, and the admiration was no doubt mutual from 
the commencement of their acquaintance. 

" By such reports of his conversation and corresponding ac- 
counts of his noble qualities of heart and temper, I was led to 
admire, and with truth I may say to love, Mr. Allston, before I 
had seen him or any of his works. But opportunities did not 
favor me. His short stay in London occasioned me much re- 
gret, less on account of being cut off from his society (though 
to that I was anything but indifferent) than that I felt strongly 
that his works would surely be duly appreciated in England. 

" His own country had a strong claim upon his talents, as it 
had upon his affections ; nevertheless carefully as he had ob- 
served the works of the old masters, and deeply as he had stud- 
ied them, and vivid as were his impressions of their excellence, 
I could not but entertain some fear, that when by residence in 

America he was removed from the sight of them, his genius, 
24 



370 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

great as it was, might suffer, and his works fall more or less into 
mannerism. For my part there was such high promise in the 
few works of his pencil which I had the opportunity of seeing, 
that they stood high in my estimation, much above any artist of 
his day. They indicated a decided power of higher conceptions, 
and his skill in dealing with the material of art struck me as far 
beyond that of any other painter of his time. It was truly as 
Coleridge used to say, ' coloring, and not color.' 

" Since Mr. Allston went back home I have had short letters 
from him frequently, introducing his American acquaintances ; 
and friendly messages have often passed between us, which I am 
certain were mutually acceptable. Your account of his last mo- 
ments affected me deeply. I thank you sincerely for it. Much 
do I regret that it is not in my power to dwell more upon par- 
ticulars, but after such a lapse of time I could not venture to 
attempt it, and I beg of you to take in good part the scanty 
tribute to the memory of a great man whom I highly honored. 

" Sincerely yours, 

"William Wobdswoeth. 

" Rydal Mount, Ambleside, October, 1843." 

From William Cullen Bryant 

" New Yokk, August 4, 1843. 

" My Deae Sie : I would have answered your letter earlier 
if I had known what to say. All the circumstances which made 
the death of Allston a happy one, seem to increase the weight 
of his loss to his friends. Even the general sorrow with which 
he is mourned, and the honors paid to his memory, but remind 
them how great is that loss. I suppose that the only method of 
consolation is to fix the mind upon what death has been to him, 
rather than what it is to those whom he has left. 

" For my part, I think of him as one who, without the usual 
approach of pain and decay, was taken by the gentlest transition 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 371 

into that better world, the light of which was always about him, 
and to which he seemed to belong rather than this. Do yon re- 
member the pilgrims in Bunyan's narrative, who, in passing over 
the dark river to the glorious land beyond, seemed scarcely to 
dip their feet in the waters ? 

" Weir, who has just put the last hand to his picture of the 
■ Embarkation of the Pilgrims,' on which he has earnestly been 
engaged for years, is a man of great simplicity of character and 
depth of feeling. ' It was encouragement to me during my long 
labors,' said he to me, last week, ' that when they should be fin- 
ished, Allston would see what I had done. I thought of it al- 
most every day while I was at work.' Such was the confidence 
with which the artists looked up to his true and friendly judg- 
ment, and so sure were they that what they had done well would 
give him pleasure. 

" I hope you will admit that it is something to the credit of 
the country and the age that it can discern the worth of such a 
man as Allston, and can grieve that so bright an example both in 
life and out had been taken from our midst. 
"Tours faithfully, 

"William Cullen Bryant." 



From C. B. Leslie, R.A. 

" As from what you have told me of our lamented Allston it 
was evident to many of his friends that his life was near its 
close, it is a great happiness to me to know that he was spared 
the sufferings of a sick-bed. I had a letter from him in October 
last, telling me of the long illness which had confined him to his 
chamber for the greater part of the preceding winter, and this 
with my previous knowledge of the delicacy of his constitution 
had somewhat prepared me to expect the sad intelligence of the 
last month. He was one of a very few excellent persons I have 



372 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

known in the course of my life, whose rare endowments have 
rendered it next to impossible that I should ' ever look upon his 
like again.' 

" My obligations to Allston are very great, and now, that he 
is gone, they seem greater than ever. I was so fortunate as 
to become acquainted with him at the most critical period of my 
life, when, above all things, I wanted a safe guide to help me to 
distinguish truth from falsehood, not only in art but in matters 
of far higher moment. That I derived less benefit than I might 
have done from my intercourse with so rare a man as Allston, 
was my own fault. Indeed, I was far from estimating his full 
value, for I could not know, when I was but on the threshold of 
the world, how unlikely it was that I should ever meet again with 
equal purity of mind combined with equal purity of taste." 

From Collard to Leslie. 

" My Deak Sie : Your letter confirming the melancholy event 
of our friend Allston's death, and of which I had previously 
seen an account, with deep regret, in the public papers, has 
been forwarded to me. So many of the friends of my youth 
have passed away from me by distance and death that I begin 
to feel like one of another epoch who has outlived his proper 
age, and who wanders about among a race whose sympathies be- 
long not to him but to a new generation. After Allston left 
England we exchanged a few letters, and I was constantly ex- 
pecting that he would give me detailed accounts of the progress 
of his labors ; but this he delayed to do, and our correspondence 
ceased. Every opportunity I have had since of inquiring after 
him among any of his countrymen whom I happened to meet I 
made use of ; but, strange to say, to this hour I am ignorant of 
the nature or success of his efforts after he left this country. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 373 

" The gentle disposition, the loye of quietly indulging in his 
own imagination, and the simple retiring habits of our excellent 
friend prevented his mingling much in the stirring scenes of life, 
so that his greatest enjoyments were found in his own studies 
and in the society of a few friends. I now see him, with a cigar 
in his hand, sitting in an easy-chair, and luxuriating in some 
interesting subject of conversation, or projecting designs which 
it would give me the greatest pleasure to find he had carried into 
successful execution. 

" I have often regretted the interruption of our correspond- 
ence, and now regret it more than ever, for I always had a latent 
feeling that we should meet again and live over some of the 
pleasant hours of our youth. That hope, however, like most of 
those we fondly form, is now past, leaving its place unhappily 
supplied with unavailing sorrow. 

" Believe me faithfully yours, 

"W. F. COLLAKD." 

From William Collins, B.A. 

"London, September 6, 1843. 

" My Dear Sir : I am exceedingly obliged for your kind and 
interesting letter, for although I had heard of the sudden death 
of our dear friend, I had been informed of few particulars, and 
the intelligence of his peaceful departure and the happy state of 
his mind, evinced in his conversation with your daughter so short 
a time before he ' fell asleep,' is to me, as it must be to all who 
loved him as I did, most gratifying. 

" I shall have a melancholy satisfaction in telling you all I 
can recollect of the happy and uninterrupted intercourse I en- 
joyed during the few years I was honored by the confiding friend- 
ship of one of the best of men. My acquaintance with Mr. All- 
ston began in 1814; I was introduced to him by my friend 



374: WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Leslie, and from this moment, until he left England for America 
I saw more of him than almost any other friend I had. Every 
time I was in his company my admiration of his character and 
my high estimation of his mind and acquirements, as well as of 
his great genius as a painter, increased, and the affectionate kind- 
ness he showed toward my mother and brother upon his fre- 
quent visits to our abode, so completely cemented the bond of 
union that I always considered him as one of the family. Alas ! 
that family, with the exception of your correspondent, are now 
no more seen. It is a source of great comfort to me to know that 
although we were for . so many years separated by the Atlantic, 
he yet sometimes spoke of me, and especially that so short a time 
before his death he had me in his mind. 

" Yery shortly before the sad news arrived in England I had 
fully intended to write to my friend to thank him for the beauti- 
ful and interesting story of ' Monaldi,' which he had so recently 
sent me, making the inscription in his own handwriting an ex- 
cuse for sending him a long letter. "We had both been wretched 
correspondents. His name, however, was always before me, for 
in my high estimation of his character I had, by proxy, fifteen 
years ago, ventured to connect him with my family as godfather 
to my second son, who has been christened Charles Allston, and 
it is perhaps not unworthy of remark that he, having been left 
entirely to his own choice as regards a profession, has determined 
to follow that of painting, and is now carrying on his studies at 
the Koyal Academy. I desire no better thing for him than that 
he may follow the example of his namesake, both as a painter 
and as a man." 

From Professor Henry Reed. 

•'Philadelphia, July 23, 1843. 
" My Dear Sir : You will not, I hope, regard it as an intru- 
sion or an impertience if I venture to write you a few lines to 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 375 

express the sincere sorrow with which I heard of the death of 
your eminent relative, Mr. Allston. Having long been in the 
habit of regarding him as in the front rank of his high vocation, 
I had it greatly at heart, when on a visit to Boston last summer, 
to gain the privilege of personal converse with him. The intro- 
duction by a friend, and the cordial courtesy with which Mr. 
Allston welcomed those who sought his society, removed from 
my mind all apprehensions of trespassing upon him, and ena- 
bled me to spend some four or live hours in his company at his 
house. This brief space of time has left a deep impression. I 
need not say how much there was of that instinctive politeness, 
which, for what he had reason to suppose would be the gratifi- 
cation of his visitor, gave a direction to the conversation in his 
recollections of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Lamb. That these 
were full of interest to me you can well believe, but I do not 
know how to describe to you the feelings I found myself pos- 
sessed of when I parted with him. The deepest of these feelings, 
as I come to reflect on them, was the sense of admiration and 
reverence for the gentleness and purity of his genius, character- 
istics that had been unconsciously and unaffectedly manifesting 
themselves, in various indescribable ways, in all that he said of 
his fellow-men, of his fellow-poets, and fellow-artists. 

" I have treasured from that evening's interview my best be- 
lief of the placid magnanimity of a great and good man. Doubt- 
less the height of his conceptions in art was owing, not to the 
native power of his genius alone, but to that moral culture which 
saved them from being depressed by the unworthy passions, the 
littleness and meanness which sometimes embitter and disfigure 
the artist's life. He appeared to be endowed with a power, the 
very virtue of purity, of not suffering such things to touch him, 
and not only this, but to have no sight for them in minds less 
happily constituted. Earth loses more than we can estimate 
when such a spirit is called away." 



376 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

From Colonel Wm. Drayton. 

"Philadelphia, October, 1843. 
" I sincerely sympathize with you in the death of Mr. Allston, 
to be deplored as a public and private loss. His brilliant talents 
reflected honor upon his country, and what constitutes a rare 
union with so bright an order of intellect, he possessed a sweet- 
ness of temper, a mildness of manner, and fascinating power of 
conversation which delighted all who had been in the habit of 
social intercourse with him, and must have bound to him by the 
most endearing ties the favored few who were in the enjoyment 
of his intimacy and friendship. 

" I am, with great respect, your obedient servant, 

"Wm. Drayton." 

From W. Y. Dearborn. 

"Hawthorn Cottage, Roxbury, September 28, 1844. 

" Most happy am I to learn that I was favorably remembered 
by Mr. Allston, for he was a gentleman whom it was necessary to 
have known to be duly capable of appreciating his character, as 
a man and an artist. From 1819 down to about the year 1829 
I had the pleasure of seeing him often ; but subsequent to that 
period a tempest passed over me and most unfortunately I was 
not in a condition to continue that most agreeable intimacy of 
acquaintance which had so long and happily subsisted, and was 
so precious in my estimation. The delightful years passed in his 
society rise up in my memory like verdant and sunny glades in 
the great desert of life, and although for many years I saw him 
not, still I constantly watched his progress with intense solici- 
tude and the deepest interest, and felt how much I lost, while I 
rejoiced in that richly merited renown which was rapidly ex- 
tending. 

" Mr. Allston was one of the most remarkable men I ever 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 377 

knew. With, a mind of the very first order, a brilliant imagina- 
tion, a genius so universal and comprehensive in its scope, and 
talents of such diversified excellence, that he was as distinguished 
for intellectual attainments in science and letters as for his re- 
fined taste and extensive knowledge in the exalted arts of paint- 
ing, sculpture, and architecture. 

" In conversation he was one of the most interesting, instruc- 
tive, and eloquent men I ever had the good fortune to meet. As 
a gentleman, it is rare indeed that in the whole course of our 
lives we find an individual in whom all the high qualities of mind, 
heart, and manners are so harmoniously and admirably combined 
as they were in him. There was a rectitude of principle, a re- 
finement of sentiment, a lifting of spirit, and a moral grandeur of 
character, united in him, which commanded the honor and esteem 
of all who knew him. I hope the period is not distant when a 
whole people will be emulous to do honor to the memory of a 
man who did so much to elevate the glory of their country. 
" Your most obedient servant, 

"W. Y. Dearborn." 

From Charles Fraser. 

"We know Allston's qualities and honor his memory. I 
hope that his fame may ever be such as his genius and attain- 
ments justly entitle him to. His was a life of thought, feeling, 
sentiment, rather than action. All his views were philosophical. 
He considered art but the reflex of nature in her moral and in- 
tellectual workings, and valued its productions only as they ex- 
emplified and embodied her mysterious and inscrutable im- 
pulses. Hence character — character, was his constant aim. If 
he labored on a picture, it was not to attract notice to the work, 
but to make it more expressive of his design. If he employed 
art (and who could do it more successfully ?) it was only to make 
it forgotten in its triumphs. 



37S WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

"His mind was so sensitively alive to external influences, 
and his heart so susceptible of kind and gentle impressions, his 
philanthropy so comprehensive, and his friendships so discrim- 
inating — his whole manner so bland and benignant that to do 
justice to these traits and to give each its proper shade one must 
be a congenial spirit. Few, if any, of the artists of the pres- 
ent age unite so much practical excellence with such profound 
science as he did. I never left his society without feeling im- 
proved. There was a moral elevation in his character and con- 
versation in perfect keeping with his eminence as an artist." 

From Joshua H. Hayward. 

"His conversations were of such a character that to recall 
them would be like recalling the impressions made by some 
beautiful scenery in Nature where the grand outline and general 
effect remain, but the detail is lost. I cannot remember a single 
saying of his, and yet all his words, could they have been taken 
down, as they were uttered, would have been worth recording. 
The fact is, he never aimed at wit, sarcasm, or smartness ; nor 
did he, like the late Mr. Stuart, ever deal in those epigrammat- 
ic remarks that were remembered rather from the bitterness of 
their sting than from their justice or truth. His conversations 
were humorous, didactic, or of a serious cast. 

" He delighted, as you well know, in anecdote, and was as 
fond of listening to as of telling stories. When one was told 
he always seemed to have its companion ready, and was so re- 
markable in this last respect that I have no doubt he not infre- 
quently drew upon his inventive faculty on the spur of the mo- 
ment. I never heard him speak harshly of any human being. 
He has sometimes complained of ingratitude in some, who, re- 
ceiving only favors from him had attempted to injure him, but 
this he did in sorrow rather than anger. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 379 

" He was remarkably free from suspicion. I recollect saying 
to him, when about to open ' Jeremiah ' for exhibition : ' What 
is to prevent your being imposed upon by the doorkeeper as to 
the receipts ? ' ' Nothing,' he replied, ' unless I should be lucky 
enough to find an honest man.' He evidently had studied at all 
the schools, but was an imitator of none. His style was his own, 
and his inspiration from a higher source. If he had less vigor 
than the old masters, he had far more sweetness and delicacy ; 
he scorned the tricks and traps of art, and chose to win by ad- 
dressing himself to the heart rather than the eye. He was, if I 
may say so, the Dante of painters ; his impersonations breathed 
more of heaven than earth. Perhaps he resembled Correggio 
more than any other of the ancients in his general manner. And 
yet, had he been called upon to paint the same subjects, he 
would have given us Madonnas equally beautiful, but far less 
sensual. 

" His talent, too, was more varied than that of most of the 
old masters. Portrait, landscape, cabinet, and humorous sub- 
jects seemed equally under his control with history ; and he 
had only to choose on which to exercise his talent to produce a 
masterpiece of the kind. He was remarkably fond of conversing 
upon art — its principles, objects, and means to be used to attain 
it. And these conversations were of such a nature as to produce 
as strong an impression of his knowledge and power as was ex- 
perienced when viewing the greatest works of his hand. 

" He was invariably kind to young artists. He loved to 
instruct them. No one, I believe, ever asked his advice with- 
out receiving it, and in such a way as to produce a lasting and 
grateful impression. He could criticise without offending, for 
amidst faults he would find some beauties. He seemed always 
to wish to impart knowledge, rather than to make a display of 
it. When opportunity presented he would take the crayon and 
correct the drawing of a picture, and not long since, happening 



3S0 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

to ask his advice as to the best color for the background of a 
portrait I was then painting, he took the palette and painted 
the whole background himself, merely saying as he finished, 
' There, I would give it some such color as that.' It is needless 
to add that the background remains just as he left it. 

" As an artist I consider Allston one of the greatest of this 
or any age. He possessed in an eminent degree a feeling for the 
true and beautiful, and the art so to embody them as to produce 
a corresponding feeling in others." 

From an Unknown American Artist (Extract). 

" Freywalden, Austrian Silesia, September 23, 1844. 

" Were I in Italy I might obtain some details for you from 
the brothers Eiepenhausen, who occupy a prominent position in 
the German school, both as painters and as writers on art. I am 
not personally acquainted with them, but know that Allston was 
well known to them, and that they still possess a work of his 
hand. 

" If Mr. Leslie would consult Mr. Severn, who knew Allston 
when in London, and who was afterward intimate with his 
German friends in Italy, he could scarce fail to get valuable 
information on the subject that interests you. I am the more 
certain of this as I had a long conversation about Allston at Mr. 
Severn's house in London a year since, and he spoke of Allston's 
influence on the German school as a thing well known to him. 
Many persons conversant with art have been surprised that All- 
ston's labors should have been so imperfectly known, so partially 
appreciated. Allston was an Idealist, and as the Ideal is a crit- 
icism of the Actual, he shared the fate of those who, in whatever 
branch of culture, rise where the mass cannot follow. From the 
landscape to the embodying of the highest religion, Allston's 






The Sibyl- -Outline in Chalk. 

From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 






WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 381 

pictures were lofty, noble poetry. He owed the sympathy he 
won rather to the sweetness of his language than to his thought, 
rather to his vehicle than his substance. I believe that his in- 
fluence would have been much greater could his works have stood 
before the body of the people in the interior. I know how neces- 
sary is a certain familiarity with the language of art to a full ap- 
preciation of the artist, but the wants of the country-folk in this 
respect are more than balanced by their freedom from the cant, 
the false taste, and the frivolity of self-sufficient society. In 
England we have seen portrait-painting constantly lead to the 
highest honors in the gift of Government. After portraiture 
come the illustration of the literature in vogue and the various 
ornamental branches of painting. 

" High art leads straight to debt and jail. We are told that 
the Barry Haydonites were men of bad temper and exorbitant 
pretensions, and this they say was the cause of their ruin. What 
pride of English painter ever approached that of Michael Angelo, 
who, at a harsh word from the Pope, turned his back on the man, 
and that, too, in the palmy days of popedom ? In America we 
have seen Copley, Stuart, and Trumbull absorb a large portion 
of the public attention and large sums of money. Thus far these 
facts are a command to quit the paths of high art and to orna- 
ment and amuse society. 

* There is a battle, then — there is a battle between what is 
and what might be, between poetry and fact, between the pas- 
sions and the tastes of the day and the eternal beauty of nature. 
Napoleon's feeling toward what he called the ' Ideologic,' John- 
son's feeling toward Milton, this is the feeling with which practi- 
cal social life listens to the voice of genius. The conclusion is 
not very original. The battle is not merely in art, God knows. 
It is everywhere. Allston is the head, the chief, the Adam of 
American Idealists. He is the first of that noble Spartan band, 
sure to fall because the hosts of the Persian are overwhelming, 



382 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 



but sure to carry with them to the ground, wherever they fall, 
not only the sense, but the proof of having acted the noblest 
part that God grants to man, that of sacrificing body to mind, 
expediency to right, fact to truth, now to hereafter. 

" Let no man think the influence of these efforts is as small 
as the attention he gives to them. If the gifted minds of a 
country like ours are to join the current, echo the cry of the 
street, and hammer out their gold to bedizen the every-day life 
of the many, what will be the consequence ? The course will be 
downward, and when the gifted travel in that direction they 
travel fast. 

" I hope that in your biography of Allston you will lay due 
stress on one feature of his artistical character. He never 
wrought but upon subjects capable of wholly absorbing his mind, 
and he never let his work go from him until that mind was re- 
flected back from the canvas. To give an idea of his views of 
the objects of art, would be to name all his subjects ; to im- 
press one with his sense of what was due to technical execution 
would be to show labors and studies through which I am not 
able to follow him. To appreciate the force of his genius one 
must have seen how deaf was his ear to the promise of gain, and 
of newspaper renown, through poverty and illness ; to feel what 
a heart he had, one must have seen him in all these struggles, 
generous, loving, forgetful of self, living in the life of others." 






CHAPTER XXX. 

LETTERS FROM HORATIO GREENOLGH EULOGIZING ALLSTON's CHAR- 
ACTER AND COMMENTING ON HIS WORKS. — A LETTER FROM W. 



TERSE. 



Both the personal and the artistic sides of Allston are elo- 
quently testified to in the two following letters from Horatio 
Greenough to R. H. Dana, Sr. : 

"Pahis, September 21, 1843. 

" My Dear Sir : Tour letter of the 13th ult. has just now 
reached me, and has been a great relief to me. The thought of 
haying been so near Allston at the time of his death, yet not 
with him, distressed me. I longed for a yoice from one of you, 
to hear what you haye now told me. TVhat would I not haye 
borne to haye the memory which your daughter will eyer retain 
of haying listened to the last breathings of his blessed spirit ! 
. . . But I knew all that I was enjoying when Allston liyed. 
I can truly say that I heard him as an angel, and that when far 
from him he exercised oyer me a power no other man ever did. 

" In my eagerness to do something, I wrote to Mr. Quincy 
and to ALr. Gray to beg that they would use their influence to pre- 
yent tampering with the unfinished work which Allston had left. 
I tried to make them feel that works like his are always finished, 
because the first lines that declared his intention were a whole, 
and never finished, because the last agony of elaboration was 
but an approximation to his thought. I wished them to under- 



384 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

stand that instead of endeavoring to help him, our task is but to 
receive gratefully and cherish as it is all that came from him. 

" I can fully realize the anxiety with which you shrink from 
undertaking his biography. As a man you can record him — I 
know you will do it — worthily ! As an artist you cannot record 
him ! You will see that the news of his decease will elicit from 
England, from Italy, and Germany, tributes to his genius. 
Neither can these record Allston the artist. It is to the men 
who will be born of him that I look for a fit monument of his 
career, and hence my sense of the duty of collecting and preserv- 
ing his unfinished works, because they are full of invaluable in- 
struction to kindred minds. 

" In whatever walk of culture a genius now labors he is a 
scourge. To the superficial, the heartless, to the time-serving, 
to the false, he must be a scourge ! In the early ages of art a 
genius threw open new sources of light and stood in the blaze of 
his own creation a demi-god ; but now the false prophets throw 
their rods on the ground and they become serpents ; the rod of 
the genius, like that of Moses, devours them. In this sense it is 
that even the artist whose mission seems so peaceful bears a 
two-edged sword. 

"America has always acted toward her artists like a hen 
who hatched ducklings ; she cannot understand why they run to 
the water instead of thriving on the dunghill, which only asks 
to be scratched in order to feed them ; she will learn better, but 
not yet. 

" I will write to you what I have treasured of remembrance 
of Allston ; I cannot do it now — I cannot bring myself to think 
calmly enough, but when I am in my own home I will write. I 
think that all should be recorded, but only a reserved biography 
as yet given. I know that it was impossible in America for All- 
ston's career to be other than it was. I blame no one, but I think 
that we should withhold our testimony until the nation awakes to 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 3S5 

a sense of the worth of her noble child. Until she begs to hear 
of this man, who, doing more for thought and truth and love 
than all these of the ignorant present, entered not into the ac- 
count of her treasures. Mr. Dana, you will remember how much 
of esteem and affection was lavished upon Allston by the higher 
minds of America, and you will perhaps feel surprised that I 
speak thus. If you could but see the career of a high artist 
here in Germany, or even in poor Italy, you would understand 
why I grieve. 

" Wherever I have been I have found some one or two per- 
sons who owed to Allston the birth of their souls, and with these 
I have always found that what I had imbibed from him was a 
chain of sympathy, a bond of affection even. To look back to 
those hours when he was with us, to recall his words, his looks, 
to cherish the memory of his virtues, these must henceforth take 
the place of his presence. Is it not thus that our Father weans 
us from earth, and prepares us also to lie down by our departed 
friends ? 

" Very truly and affectionately yours, 

" Horatio Greenougil" 

<( Florence, June 11, 1844. 
" Dear Sir : The few words which I shall say will be very 
general in their character, and I feel the more reconciled to this 
forced silence of mine from the reflection that Allston as a man 
will be fully recorded, while his work must ever be his monument 
as a poet. We have seen that a living Lawrence or David exerts 
an influence upon contemporary art which the example of a dead 
Raphael cannot counterbalance. The crowd of aspirants natur- 
ally seeks to reflect the qualities of the favorite of the age. This 
but shows that painting shares the fate of all human pursuits. 
What a deluge of would-be misanthropy has been poured forth 
by the imitators of Byron. But if this be true of the mass, the 
25 



i 



3S6 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 



reverse is the case of the man of genius. Eaphael first absorbed 
the masters who had preceded him, and then became their coun- 
terpart. Michael Angelo carried on a double war with the mea- 
gre imitation of the early Florentine sculptors and the measured 
and scientific grace of the antique. Carravaggio's fierce chiaro- 
oscuro was born of the emasculate gradations of Guido, and in 
one way Canova turned to the Greeks, satiated by the extrava- 
gance of Bernini's school. In some of these instances there 
would seem to have been as much of malice aforethought in 
the choice of style, as of sincere bias of the heart and of taste ; 
but this we may venture to affirm, that we have not seen two 
men of strong decided genius work the same vein of thought 
in painting. 

" Allston began the study of art in Eome at a time when a 
revolution in taste had just been effected throughout the Conti- 
nent. The works of Winkelmann and Yisconti were but symp- 
toms of the reaction which pervaded the cultivated classes, a re- 
action whose first wave swept away the puny relics of Bernini, 
and whose second placed Canova on the pedestal of Phidias, and 
David on the throne of painting. To do justice to Allston, one 
should be familiar with the history of art at that epoch. He 
should see the color with which David achieved his fame to ap- 
preciate Allston's worship of the Venetians. He should know 
how extensively Koman history occupied public attention as a 
subject of art to feel Allston's unwavering adherence to the 
neglected poetry of the Bible. He should be aware how fully 
Michael Angelo had fallen into disrepute, how the simpler and 
earlier masters were laughed to scorn, in order to do justice to 
the mind of the American painter, who, without once failing to 
pay his tribute of admiration to the cleverness and executive 
vigor of the reigning artists, kept his eye and his heart unen- 
thralled, daily absorbing from all that had gone before its most 
varied and precious results. 



WASHINGTON' ALLS TON 387 

" Like all artists who have received a literary education, All- 
ston began his studies by theory, by books, and amateur efforts. 
Like all artists who so begin he was forced to unlearn what he 
had thus acquired. ' When I first went abroad I groped for five 
years in the dark,' these were his words to me. They show his 
sense of what was wanting in his earlier means of instruction. 
In Kome Allston mastered painting as a language, proved his 
idea of the scope and object of his art, planned his processes and 
marked out his career. The Germans, who have raised so noble 
a school upon a philosophic study of the early painters, and who 
are said to owe to Allston their first clear idea of the means as 
well as the end of a modern school of art, they, and they alone, 
can do justice to that portion of his career. 

" No artist ever felt the beautiful more keenly than Allston; 
none ever gave it more exactly its due place in his heart. It 
was with him always a means, never an end. Moral beauty was 
his idol, if so it can be called ; religious truth his main inspira- 
tion. Through all his higher efforts there breathes the same 
spirit, and a voice comes from thence that fills the mind with 
awe. Whether in ' Jeremiah,' in ' Miriam,' in ' Saul,' or in ' Bel- 
shazzar,' we have the same dreadful words, ' I will repay.' 

" Allston's style was extremely varied, as were the subjects he 
treated. His was no formal manner, operating with the regular- 
ity, fecundity, and swiftness of a machine. Who would assign 
to the same hand the landscapes at Boston and the 'Desert,' 
purchased by Mr. Labouchere ? When I reflect upon the char- 
acter of his works and the immense labor bestowed upon them, I 
am surprised that this age, so prone to regard art as a handmaid 
of luxury, should have employed him as it did. When I remem- 
ber the astonishing rapidity of his execution, the ease with which 
his hand and eye mirrored the beauty before him, when I re- 
member that his will alone stood between his poverty and the 
most prolific outpouring of production, with all the renown and 



388 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

emolument that accompany it, then I form a clear idea of the 
character of his genius. 

"His was truly a great and a noble example. Was such ever 
thrown away ? Surely never. More even than in his works do 
I believe that he will live in the awakened minds of American 
art, and who shall say where the republic will carry the achieve- 
ments of painting with him for her first-born poet-painter? 

" Very truly yours, 

" HOKATIO GkEENOUGH." 

Upon the occasion of the Allston Celebration in Boston, No- 
vember 1, 1880, the following letter from the sculptor, W. W. 
Story, was received by the committee in charge, together with 
the lines given below : 

"Venice, October, 1880. 

" . . . I am very glad to hear that there is to be a celebra- 
tion in honor of Allston, and very happy to send my little con- 
tribution, which I only wish were far more worthy of the occa- 
sion. We have been singularly neglectful, thus far, of his great 
claims as an artist, upon our admiration. It seems to me high 
time that something should be done in his honor, some perma- 
nent memorial raised to keep alive the memory of his genius and 
his person. He is one of our great men. Pure in his life as a 
child, modest in his character, and of a delicacy and refinement 
of imagination in his art that entitles him to take rank with the 
great masters. When I remember the place in which he worked, 
the difficulties which he had to encounter, the absence of all 
stimulus save that which he found within himself, his prosaic 
surroundings, the want of models and means for his art, and in 
every way the restrictions of his position, the works that he pro- 
duced were almost marvellous ; but genius makes its own place, 
and time breaks the difficulties of circumstance. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 389 

" My memories of him are delightful. I saw him but seldom, 
for I was too young, too shy, to dare to intrude upon him before 
death took him away. I, in common with all who knew him, was 
carried away by the charm of his presence, the gracious dignity 
of his manners, the breadth and variety of his conversation, and 
the simple modesty and refinement of his character. One long 
evening I remember to have spent with him, being taken to his 
house by Mr. Sumner. Then under the spell of his delightful 
conversation the hours passed like moments. He talked of art 
and filled my mind with delightful visions ; gave living anecdotes 
and reminiscences of the great men of England whom he had 
known ; discoursed of pictures and galleries, of Titian and Baf- 
faelle, and all the great names of art, which were then only 
names, and I left him after midnight with my brain afire, feeling 
as if a wondrous world had been opened before me. That, and 
the few other conversations that I afterward had with him (con- 
versations I call them, but I was only a rapt listener), gave a 
color to the whole of my after-life and filled me with ideas, hopes 
and feelings, and aspirations of turbulent delight. Little then 
did I dream of being an artist myself, and possibly I never 
should have been one had it not been for his inspiring influence. 
What a grand and splendid career it seemed as he painted it. 
No low jealousy deformed it in his mind ; no mean motives 
turned it aside from its great end of beauty. It was a mountain 
range of high imagination, of exquisite fancy, of tender senti- 
ment, where no low spirit could ascend ; where only the highest 
and best- winged spirit could soar and wander. 

" He filled my mind with his own enthusiasm and taught me 
the dignity of art, the sincere devotion it demanded. The ear- 
nest study, the consecration of the whole mind and heart it re- 
quired. And he led me into its precincts as a high-priest leads 
the trembling neophyte to the altar. I can never be grateful 
enough to him for the high standard which he set before me, as 



390 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 



before all who came into his presence. There was something 
singularly attractive in his face, something ideal. His complex- 
ion was pale, as of a student and thinker ; his eyes large, of a 
tender, swimming blue, and deeply set under the brow, but with 
the whole orbit, above and beneath filled out, and, so to speak, 
pulpy, so that they seemed even larger than they were, and filled 
with a mild, pure light, that I can liken to nothing else than 
a lake in which the blue sky is tenderly reflected ; soft, large, 
luminous, dreamy. His hair, which was abundant, soft in text- 
ure, and nearly white, flowed in long waves down his neck be- 
hind, but was shorter and more curly in front, and seemed 
almost like a halo around his head, in perfect harmony of color 
with his pale face and soft blue eyes. It may be somewhat of 
the reverence with which I looked at him, and my own young 
and enthusiastic admiration, but he still remains in my memory 
as the most ideal and poetic person I ever saw — one from whom 
one might expect such exquisite sentiments, such tender grace as 
he introduces on his canvas. 

" I remember specially that he expatiated at length one day 
on the peculiar effect of blue in the eye, and told me that in his 
studies for the head of ' Jeremiah,' he drew one from a Jew, and 
found that the mere change of color from blue to brown so 
altered the expression that whereas the blue seemed to gaze ab- 
stractedly into vacancy, when changed to brown they seemed to 
be fixed intently on some object. He tried it over and over 
again with the same results. 

" It has always been a matter of regret to me that Mr. E. H. 
Dana did not carry out the intention, which he undoubtedly had, 
of writing Allston's life. I still hope that he has left his notes 
of Allston's conversations and ideas of processes of art which 
may be used in the life which remains to be written. Perhaps 
no one would be so capable of doing this as he, for he knew him 
intimately, was a poet himself, and in every way fitted to do this 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 391 

work. No time should be lost to gather together what remains 
of personal reminiscences, and I beg to urge this upon his friends, 
the few who still remain. 

" For myself I wish to recall the great admiration for the 
man and the artist. He was, as we all know, extremely fastidi- 
ous in his work, always aiming at the highest, and never satisfy- 
ing himself. But what he did was in its quality of a most rare 
and exquisite character, showing an extreme refinement of senti- 
ment, a grace of fancy, a harmony of composition, and a beauty 
of color in his best works that have seldom been surpassed, 
and in some qualities never reached. The sketches, chiefly in 
outline, which were so well engraved by Cheney, are in them- 
selves sufficient to establish his claim as an artist of remarkable 
power. 

" The figures of the angels, outlined by himself from his 
picture of ' Jacob's Dream,' are in spirit, design, and sentiment 
worthy to be placed in the same rank as the best work of Raf- 
faelle. The composition of ' Titania's Court ' is exquisite in 
grace and harmony, and produced by the most delicate fancy ; so, 
too, the fairies on the seashore have the same refined and elegant 
charm. The ship in a storm, though merely sketched in white 
chalk, has the power and mastery of a finished work by a great 
hand. I know nothing finer than the sweep of the waves and 
the large feeling for nature that is there shown. Yet these are 
mere sketches which probably no eye ever saw till after his 
death, and which he seems to have considered of little impor- 
tance. 

" In his paintings his color is perhaps their greatest attrac- 
tion. They have the best characteristics of the Venetian school, 
and beyond this a refinement and fastidious beauty specially be- 
longing to Allston. It would be difficult to find in any school 
anything more exquisite in tone and color than, for instance, 
the group in the middle distance in ' Belshazzar's Feast ; ' more 



392 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

dreamy and perfect in sentiment than 'Rosalie Listening to the 
Music,' with its twilight, too, so perfectly in accord with the 
theme of the picture ; more masterly than ' Isaac the Jew,' and 
especially the hand in the subdued light with its sparkling ring ; 
more inspired in character and expression than the ' Jeremiah ; ' 
more large and broad in style and delightful in composition 
than his Italian and Swiss landscapes. 

" I am here only rudely hinting at his excellences. Some of 
these pictures, which I have never seen since the exhibition of 
his works, just after his death, remain in my memory as the most 
charming things I ever saw. What, by the hand of man, was 
ever more idyllic and full of the spirit of unconscious nature 
than that delicate, nude, shepherd boy, piping to himself in the 
wood, with the glancing light striking against the trunks of the 
trees that show through the slope behind him, as he listens in 
sweet privacy to the pastoral notes of his pipe ? " What more 
full of tender sentiment than the twilight picture of ' Lorenzo 
and Jessica,' with the pure light still lingering faintly in the sky, 
as they sit in the soft shadow of the coming night, their heads 
silhouetted against the light, above the dark bank that rises 
against the sky ? It is all mystery and poetry. What is more 
fresh and glad than ' Una in the Wood ? ' But let me stop, I do 
not know that I should like to see them again, so charming is 
my recollection of them. You ask for a sonnet and I send you 
these. I have not said half that I wish to say, even though I 
have thrice exceeded my limits. 

"A gentle nobleness, a quiet grace 
From some ideal sphere of beauty caught, 
Hallowed the art of Allston, swayed his thought, 
Breathed thro' his manners and illumined his face. 
Here in life's prose he seemed half out of place, 
An exile, who from higher realms had brought 
Graces refined and lofty dreams, where naught 
Of low or mean or common had a trace. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 393 

Well may he walk as brother in the line 

Of the great masters; scarcely less than they 

In harmonies of color, grand design, 

Imagination, power of fancy's play, 

And none with tenderer feeling, sense more fine, 

Thro' pathless realms could find the poet's way. 

We laid him with small honor in the tomb, 

But trivial record of his life remains, 

Save what his hand with tender, patient pains 

Upon his canvas wrought (the perfect bloom 

Of his high nature), and the faint perfume 

Of delicate, fine verse, and patient strains 

Of lofty ring, and prose where romance reigns, 

And high philosophies of art have room ; 

These for themselves will speak and live ; but we — 

We have our task to do — his life to write, 

That nought be lost by treacherous memory 

Of that clear spirit — and, in all men's sight, 

To build his monument, that it may be 

A beacon, an encouragement, a light. 

If to the warrior who hath writ his name 

On Victory's fields a monument we raise — 

If to the statesman, who through perilous bays 

Of peace hath steered and struck no rock of blame 

Shall not the artist equal honors claim 

Who by his genius on the canvas stays 

The fleeting hour — the historic deed delays — 

And rescues beauty from Time's blight and shame? 

Oh ! shall not beauty plead for him whose art 

Makes her immortal ; from her wide domain 

Brings gracious gifts to cheer and lift the heart — 

Bids even the banished dead revive again, 

And for our joy creates a world apart 

Peopled with silent children of the brain ? " 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

ALLSTON's POETEY AND OTHER LITERARY WORK. — EXTRACTS AND 
COMMENTS. — "ROSALIE." — "AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN." — 
SONNETS. — "SYLPHS OF THE SEASONS." — "THE PAINT-KING." 
— COMPARISON OF OSTADE AND RAPHAEL. — " MONALDI." — APHO- 
RISMS. 

In the year 1813 Allston hadpublished in London a book of 
poems entitled " The Sylphs of the Seasons, and Other Poems." 
This volume was favorably received by his friends and the more 
critical public, and after his death was republished, with his 
other poems, in R. H. Dana, Jr.'s edition of his works, entitled 
" Lectures on Art, and Poems," by Washington Allston. 

An eminent art critic and lecturer of the time, Mr. Joseph 
Henry Green, wrote to a friend in America, in reference to All- 
ston's poetry : 

" My acquaintance with Washington Allston was the result 
of the good offices of our mutual friend and our revered teacher 
S. T. Coleridge. How lasting the impression of that intercourse, 
brief indeed, but unreserved, has been, may be gathered, in part 
at least, from the fact of my having quoted more then one pas- 
sage from Allston's poems in my lecture delivered this season 
at our Royal Academy. 

" Who, indeed, who had enjoyed the inestimable privilege of 
converse with such a man, could ever forget the purity, the depth 
and simplicity of his mind ? Indeed Allston had himself studied 
his art with poetic feeling and philosophic thought, and I doubt 
whether his productive genius or aspiration as an artist can be 
fully appreciated without a knowledge of his poems. From his 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 395 

sonnets on some of the masterpieces of the great Italian paint- 
ers, among whom he will take his rank, it will be seen what his 
admirable works have realized ; that however great his technical 
skill and knowledge, his high aim and excellence were the im- 
agination working in the service of the moral being, and the rep- 
resentation of the ennobled character of humanity." 

"We do not propose an extended citation of Allston's poems ; 
our purpose is to show, as we think we may, by a few selections, 
that the spirit of the true poet was native to him ; that it was 
not the resultant of special culture, but rather an element in his 
intellectual and moral constitution ; that it manifested itself not 
by an effort of art, but naturally, spontaneously, and even neces- 
sarily. He did not make poetry, it was in him, and he could not 
withhold it. He was in every sense of the word a poet, whether 
in painting or writing or conversation. His mind was replete 
with visions, and his sensitive, emotional nature could summon 
them at will. 

In a recent conversation Oliver Wendell Holmes narrated to 
the writer the following incident : 

" Some fifty years ago a question of public interest in Cam- 
bridgeport brought together a large assemblage in one of the 
churches of the place. I was standing in one of the galleries, and 
looking over to the other I saw among the people assembled a 
man who looked so ' like an angel of light ' that I knew him to 
be Allston, although I had never seen him before." , 

His appearance was indeed impressive. No one could see 
him without feeling something of his character. To those who 
have seen him, it is not surprising that the genial poet of 
Boston needed no one to designate Allston. There was in 
him a remarkable symmetry of endowment. As an artist he 
seemed to possess every gift requisite to produce the best effects 
in every department. As a poet he had the same fulness of 
natural qualities. His poem " Rosalie " breathes the true spirit 



396 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 



. 



of poesy. It forms a part of a dual inspiration — a picture on 
canvas and a picture in verse. That on canvas is a young 
woman, with a pensive expression, as if listening to music that 
fills her soul with an ecstasy of sadness, and captivates her with 
a sensation so profound as to simulate melancholy — the melan- 
choly of entranced emotion. The picture in verse expresses 
what that on canvas was intended to represent. We quote the 
poem in full : 

' ' O ! pour upon my soul again 

That sad, unearthly strain, 
That seems from other worlds to plain ; 
Thus falling, falling from afar, 
As if some melancholy star 
Had mingled with her light her sighs, 

And dropped them from the skies ! 

"No, — never came from aught below 

This melody of woe, 
That makes my heart to overflow, 
As from a thousand gushing springs, 
Unknown before ; that with it brings 
This nameless light — if light it be, — 

That veils the world I see. 

" For all I see around me wears 

The hue of other spheres ; 
And something blent of smiles and tears 
Comes with the very air I breathe. 
O ! nothing, sure, the stars beneath 
Can mould a sadness like to this, — 

So like angelic bliss." 

So, at that dreamy hour of day 

When the last lingering ray 
Stops on the highest cloud to play, — 
So thought the gentle Rosalie, 
As on her maiden reverie 
First fell the strain of him who stole 

In music to her soul. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 397 

Coleridge was so impressed by the poem " America to Great 
Britain," that he published it in his " Sybilline Leaves," with 
the following note : " This poem, written by an American gen- 
tleman, a valued and dear friend, I communicate to the reader 
for its moral no less than its patriotic spirit." 

America to Geeat Britain. 

All hail ! thou noble land, 
. Our Fathers' native soil ! 
O ! stretch thy mighty hand, 
Gigantic grown by toil, 
O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore ! 
For thou with magic might 
Can'st reach to where the light 
Of Phoebus travels bright 
The world o'er! 

The Genius of our clime, 

From his pine-embattled steep, 
Shall hail the guest sublime; 
While the Tritons of the deep 
With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim. 
Then let the world combine, — 
O'er the main our naval line 
Like the milky-way shall shine 
Bright in fame ! 

Though ages long have past 

Since our Fathers left their home, 
Their pilot in the blast, 
O'er untravelled seas to roam, 
Yet lives the blood of England in our veins! 
And shall we not proclaim 
That blood of honest fame 
Which no tyranny can tame 
By its chains ? 

While the language free and bold 

Which the Bard of Avon sung, 
In which our Milton told 

How the vault of heaven rung 



398 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

When Satan, blasted, fell with his host ; 
While this, with reverence meet, 
Ten thousand echoes greet, 
From rock to rock repeat 
Bound our coast; 

While the manners, while the arts, 

That mould a nation's soul, 
Still cling around our hearts — 
Between let Ocean roll, 
Our joint communion breaking with the Sun ; 
Yet still from either beach 
The voice of blood shall reach, 
More audible than speech, 
"We are One." 

Allston was versatile in methods, but beauty was ever a con- 
spicuous component in his style. He once said, in a conversation 
with his niece, Miss Charlotte Dana, that if there was any one 
thing which he was sure he possessed, it was an intense sense of 
harmony. Moral and physical harmony were one in his mind ; a 
sentiment pervading his moral and intellectual natures, so blend- 
ing them that they were almost indistinguishable. 

Another time he said to the same person that if he had three 
lives to live he should be every day learning something new in 
his art. " The big, ardent mind must be doing something, or it 
pines and dies. It must be filling up the awkward void ; storing 
time with acts and making life substantial." 

Allston was not deficient in strength or in the adventuring 
boldness of genius. Beauty did not check, if we may so express 
it, the effrontery of his imagination, or smooth the rugged 
strength of his thought. Symmetry was ever present, but never 
to weaken his work. His exquisite adjustment of all elements 
in the production of effects, his love of symmetry, with har- 
mony, distinguished him to a remarkable degree. The gentle 
stood not alone, or as overbalancing the grand. As verifying 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 399 

this we select a few stanzas, from his personification of Winter, 
in the " Sylphs of the Seasons : " 

And last the Sylph of Winter spake, 
The while her piercing voice did shake 
The castle- vaults below : 
" O ! youth, if thou, with soul refined, 
Hast felt the triumph pure of mind, 
And learnt a secret joy to find 
In deepest scenes of woe; 

"If e'er with fearful ear at eve 
Hast heard the wailing tempests grieve 

Through chink of shattered wall, 
The while it conjured o'er thy brain 
Of wandering ghosts a mournful train, 
That low in fitful sobs complain 

Of Death's untimely call ; 

"Or feeling, as the storm increased, 
The love of terror nerve thy breast, 

Didst venture to the coast, 
To see the mighty war- ship leap 
From wave to wave upon the deep, 
Like chamois goat from steep to steep, 

Till low in valley lost ; 

"Then, glancing to the angry sky, 
Behold the clouds with fury fly 

The lurid moon athwart — 
Like armies huge in battle, throng, 
And pour in volleying ranks along, 
While piping winds in martial song 

To rushing war exhort : 

" O ! then to me thy heart be given, 
To me, ordained by Him in heaven 

Thy nobler powers to wake. 
And, O ! if thou with poet's soul, 
High brooding o'er the frozen pole, 
Hast felt beneath my stern control 

The desert region quake; 



400 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

" Or from old Hecla's cloudy height, 
When o'er the dismal, half-year's night 

He pours his sulphurous breath, 
Hast known my petrifying wind 
Wild ocean's curling billows bind, 
Like bending sheaves by harvest hind, 

Erect in icy death ; 

"Or heard adown the mountain's steep 
The northern blast with furious sweep 

Some cliff dissevered dash, 
And seen it spring with dreadful bound, 
From rock to rock, to gulf profound, 
While echoes fierce from caves resound 
The never-ending crash ; 

"'Twas I on each enchanting scene 
The charm bestowed, that banished spleen 

Thy bosom pure and light. 
But still a nobler power I claim — 
That power allied to poet's fame, 
Which language vain has dared to name — 

The soul's creative might." 

As an instance of easy flowing yerse, in which thought is 
kept in motion, and the reader is entertained by frequent, unex- 
pected and startling images, we cite " The Paint-King." It is 
said to have been written by Allston in burlesque of Scott's 
" Fire-King," and Lewis's " Cloud-King." This may account for 
the extravagance of its imagery without detracting from its 
merit as an example of truly poetic qualities. 

The Paint-King. 

Fair Ellen was long the delight of the young, 

No damsel could with her compare ; 
Her charms were the theme of the heart and the tongue, 
And bards without number in ecstasies sung 

The beauties of Ellen the Fair. 



A Marine in Chalk. 






From the original in the Boston Museum of Art. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 401 

Yet cold was the maid ; and though legions advanced, 

All drilled by Ovidean art, 
And languished and ogled, protested and danced, 
Like shadows they came, and like shadows they glanced 

From the hard, polished ice of her heart. 

Yet still did the heart of fair Ellen implore 

A something that could not be found ; 
Like a sailor she seemed on a desolate shore, 
With nor house, nor a tree, nor a sound but the roar 

Of breakers high-dashing around. 

From object to object still, still would she veer, 

Though nothing, alas ! could she find ; 
Like the moon, without atmosphere, brilliant and clear, 
Yet doomed, like the moon, with no being to cheer 

The bright barren waste of her mind. 

But, rather than sit like a statue so still 

When the rain made her mansion a pound, 
Up and down would she go, like the sails of a mill, 
And pat every stair, like a woodpecker's bill, 

From the tiles of the roof to the ground. 

One morn, as the maid from her casement inclined, 

Passed a youth, with a frame in his hand. 
The casement she closed — not the eye of her mind ; 
For, do all she could, no, she could not be blind ; 

Still before her she saw the youth stand. 

" Ah, what can he do ? " said the languishing maid ; 

"Ah, what with that frame can he do?" 
And she knelt to the Goddess of Secrets and prayed, 
When the youth passed again, and again he displayed 

The frame and a picture to view. 

" O beautiful picture ! " the fair Ellen cried, 

"I must see thee again or I die." 
Then under her white chin her bonnet she tied, 
And after the youth and the picture she hied, 

When the youth, looking back, met her eye. 



402 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 



" Fair damsel," said he (and he chuckled the while), 

"This picture, I see, you admire; 
Then take it, I pray you ; perhaps 'twill beguile 
Some moments of sorrow (nay, pardon my smile), 

Or at least keep you home by the fire." 

Then Ellen the gift with delight and surprise 
From the cunning young stripling received. 
But she knew not the poison that entered her eyes, 
When sparkling with rapture they gazed on the prize — 
Thus, alas ! are fair maidens deceived ! 

'Twas a youth o'er the form of a statue inclined, 

And the sculptor he seemed of the stone ; 
Yet he languished as though for its beauty he pined, 
And gazed as the eyes of the statue so blind 
Reflected the beams of his own. 

'Twas the tale of the sculptor Pygmalion of old; 

Fair Ellen remembered and sighed : 
"Ah, couldst thou but lift from that marble so cold, 
Thine eyes too imploring, thy arms should enfold 

And press me this day as thy bride," 

She said ; when, behold, from the canvas arose 
The youth, and he stepped from the frame ; 
With a furious transport his arms did inclose 
The love-plighted Ellen, and, clasping, he froze 
The blood of the maid with his flame ! 

She turned, and beheld on each shoulder a wing. 

"O Heaven!" cried she, "who art thou?" 
From the roof to the ground did his fierce answer ring, 
As, frowning, he thundered, " I am the Paint-King ! 

And mine, lovely maid, thou art now ! " 



Then high from the ground did the grim monster lift 

The loud-screaming maid like a blast; 
And he sped through the air like a meteor swift, 
While the clouds, wandering by him, did fearfully drift 

To the right and the left as he passed. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 403 

Now suddenly sloping his hurricane flight, 

With an eddying whirl he descends/; 
The air all below him becomes black as night, 
And the ground where he treads, as if moved with affright, 

Like the surge of the Caspian bends. 

"I am here!" said the fiend, and he thundering knocked 

At the gates of a mountainous cave ; 
The gates open flew, as by magic unlocked, 
While the peaks of the mount, reeling to and fro, rocked 

Like an island of ice on the wave. 

"O mercy!" cried Ellen, and swooned in his arms; 

But the Paint-King he scoffed at her pain. 
" Prithee, love," said the monster, "what mean these alarms?" 
She hears not, she sees not, the terrible charms 

That wake her to horror again. 

She opens her lids, but no longer her eyes 

Behold the fair youth she would woo ; 
Now appears the Paint-King in his natural guise; 
His face, like a palette of villainous dyes, 

Black and white, red and yellow, and blue. 

On the skull of a Titan, that Heaven defied, 

Sat the fiend, like the grim Giant Gog, 
While aloft to his mouth a huge pipe he applied, 
Twice as big as the Eddystone Lighthouse, descried 

As it looms through an easterly fog. 

And anon, as he puffed the vast volumes, were seen, 

In horrid festoons on the wall, 
Legs and arms, heads and bodies, emerging between, 
Like the drawing-room grim of the Scotch Sawney Beane, 

By the devil dressed out for a ball. 

" Ah me! " cried the damsel, and fell at his feet. 

"Must I hang on these walls to be dried?" 
" O no ! " said the fiend, while he sprung from his seat ; 
" A far nobler fortune thy person shall meet ; 

Into paint will I grind thee, my bride!" 



4:04 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Then, seizing the maid by her dark auburn hair, 

An oil-jug he plunged her within. 
Seven days, seven nights, with the shrieks of despair, 
Did Ellen in torment convulse the dun air, 

All covered with oil to the chin. 

On the morn of the eighth on a huge sable stone, 

Then Ellen, all reeking, he laid; 
With a rock for his muller he crushed every bone, 
But, though ground to a jelly, still, still did she groan ; 

For life had forsook not the maid. 

Now, reaching his palette, with masterly care 

Each tint on its surface he spread ; 
The blue of her eyes, and the brown of her hair, 
And the pearl and the white of her forehead so fair, 

And her lips' and her cheeks' rosy-red. 

Then, stamping his foot, did the monster exclaim, 

" Now I brave, cruel Fairy, thy scorn ! " 
When lo ! from a chasm wide-yawning there came 
A light, tiny chariot of rose-colored flame, 
By a team of ten glow-worms upborne. 

Enthroned in the midst on an emerald bright, 

Fair Geraldine sat without peer ; 
Her robe was a gleam of the first blush of light, 
And her mantle the fleece of a noon-cloud white, 

And a beam of the moon was her spear. 

In an accent that stole on the still, charmed air 

Like the first gentle language of Eve, 
Thus spake from her chariot the Fairy so fair : 
"I come at thy call — but, O Paint-King, beware 

Beware if again you deceive 

"'Tis true," said the monster, "thou queen of my heart, 

Thy portrait I oft have essayed ; 
Yet ne'er to the canvas could I with my art 
The least of thy wonderful beauties impart; 

And my failure with scorn you repaid. 



WASHINGTON ALLS TON 405 

"Now I swear by the light of the Comet-King's tail," 

And he towered with pride as he spoke, 
"If again with these magical colors I fail, 
The crater of Etna shall hence be my jail, 

And my food shall be sulphur and smoke. 

"But if I succeed, then, O fair Geraldine ! 

Thy promise with justice I claim, 
And thou, queen of Fairies, shalt ever be mine, 
The bride of my bed ; and thy portrait divine 

Shall fill all the earth with my fame." 

I 

He spake ; when, behold, the fair Geraldine's form 

On the canvas enchantingly glowed ; 
His touches — they flew like the leaves in a storm — 
And the pure, pearly white and the carnation warm, 

Contending, in harmony flowed. 

And now did the portrait a twin-sister seem 

To the figure of Geraldine fair : 
With the same sweet expression did faithfully teem 
Each muscle, each feature ; in short, not a gleam 

Was lost of her beautiful hair. 

'Twas the Fairy herself ! but, alas, her blue eyes 

Still a pupil did ruefully lack ; 
And who shall describe the terrific surprise 
That seized the Paint-King when, behold, he descries 

Not a speck on his palette of black! 

"I am lost!" said the Fiend, and he shook like a leaf; 

When, casting his eyes to the ground, 
He saw the lost pupils of Ellen, with grief, 
In the jaws of a mouse, and the sly little thief 

Whisk away from his sight with a bound. 

"I am lost!" said the Fiend, and he fell like a stone. 

Then rising, the Fairy in ire 
With a touch of her finger she loosened her zone, 
(While the limbs on the wall gave a terrible groan,) 

And she swelled to a column of fire. 



406 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Her spear, now a thunderbolt, flashed in the air, 

And sulphur the vault filled around ; 
She smote the grim monster, and now by the hair, 
High-lifting, she hurled him in speechless despair 

Down the depths of the chasm profound. 

Then over the picture thrice waving her spear, 

"Come forth !" said the good Geraldine; 
When, behold, from the canvas descending, appear 
Fair Ellen, in person more lovely than e'er, 
With grace more than ever divine ! 

The singleness of theme and the condensation required in 
sonnets have made them a favorite form of poetic composition. 
Allston's style was epigrammatic, yet flowing and perspicuous. 
In poetry he seemed strongest when most circumscribed — the 
smaller the compass for its expression, the richer his thought. 
He was extremely fond of finish. He tells us that he once spent 
four hours in writing twenty lines of prose, after he had the idea 
perfectly in his mind. 

"How poetically philosophical," says Dana, the poet, "is 
Allston's sonnet on the ' Group of Angels ' by Eaphael ; and how 
perfectly true it is when applied to his own works in the art." 



On the Gboup of the Three Angels Before the Tent of Abraham, 

by Eaphael. 

O ! now I feel as though another sense, 

From Heaven descending, had informed my soul; 

I feel the pleasurable, full control 

Of Grace, harmonious, boundless and intense. 

In thee, celestial Group, embodied lives 

The subtile mystery, that speaking gives 

Itself resolved ; the essences combined 

Of Motion ceaseless, Unity complete. 

Borne like a leaf by some soft eddying wind 

Mine eyes, impelled as by enchantment sweet, 



WASHINGTON- ALL8T0N 407 

From part to part with circling motion rove, 
Yet seem unconscious of the power to move ; 
From line to line through endless changes run, 
O'er countless shapes, yet seem to gaze on One. 

" Though," continues Mr. Dana, " painting presents to the 
eye a moment of time, yet to the mind it is not limited in its 
suggestive power, but may carry our thoughts back into a long 
past, and at the same time forward into the future. Allston, I 
find, on recurring to his sonnet on the ' Falling Group ' of 
Michael Angelo, has finely expressed this : " 

On a "Falling Gkotjp," by Michael Angelo. 

How vast, how dread, o'erwhelming, is the thought 

Of space interminable ! to the soul 

A circling weight that crushes into naught 

Her mighty faculties ! a wondrous whole, 

Without or parts, beginning, or an end. 

How fearful, then, on desperate wings to send 

The fancy e'en amid the waste profound ! 

Yet, born as if all daring to astound, 

Thy giant hand, O, Angelo ! hath hurled 

E'en human forms, with all their mortal weight, 

Down the dread void — fall endless as their fate ! 

Already now they seem from world to world 

For ages thrown ; yet doomed, another past, 

Another still to reach, nor e'er to reach the last ! 

" The remaining sonnets," adds Mr. Dana, " partake more or 
less of the same character ; and it should be remembered that, 
with the exception of Wordsworth and Coleridge, who were but 
just then reopening upon us the depths of our being in a new 
form, poetry had not recovered its Metaphysic Idea, which had 
lain so long unseen." 

Allston with poetic inspiration attributes to Eembrandt the 
highest characteristics of genius. 



408 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 



In Kembrandt; Occasioned by his Picture of Jacob's Dbeam. 

As in that twilight, superstitious age 

When all beyond the narrow grasp of mind 

Seemed fraught with meanings of supernal kind, 

When e'en the learned, philosophic sage, 

Wont with the stars through boundless space to range, 

Listened with reverence to the changeling's tale; — 

E'en so, thou strangest of all beings strange : 

E'en so thy visionary scenes I hail ; 

That, like the rambling of an idiot's speech, 

No image giving of a thing on earth, 

Nor thought significant in reason's reach, 

Yet in their random shado wings give birth 

To thoughts and things from other worlds that come, 

And fill the soul, and strike the reason dumb. 



In his lines on Michael Angelo he lays, as it were, at the feet 
of the great Tuscan, the tribute, we might almost say, of his idol- 
atry. It is a brief expression of his exalted admiration. To All- 
ston, Michael Angelo was alone, peerless, unapproachable — poet, 
painter, sculptor, architect; he styles him, "the mighty sover- 
eign of the ideal, than whom no one ever trod so near, yet so 
securely, the dizzy brink of the impossible." 

On Michael Angelo. 

'Tis not to honor thee by verse of mine 
I bear a record of thy wondrous power ; 
Thou stand'st alone, and needest not to shine 
With borrowed lustre ; for the light is thine 
Which no man giveth ; and, though comets lower 
Portentous round thy sphere, thou still art bright; 
Though many a satellite about thee fall, 
Leaving their stations merged in trackless night, 
Yet take not they from that supernal light 
Which lives within thee, sole, and free of all. 



WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 409 

The death of Coleridge touched Allston deeply, and would 
have overwhelmed him with sorrow but for that philosophy 
which his friend had assisted him in cultivating. 

On Coleeidge. 

And thou art gone, most loved, most honored friend! 

No, never more thy gentle voice shall blend 

With air of earth its pnre ideal tones, 

Binding in one, as with harmonious zones, 

The heart and intellect. And I no more 

Shall with thee gaze on that unfathomed deep, 

The Human Soul, — as when, pushed off the shore, 

Thy mystic bark would through the darkness sweep, 

Itself the while so bright ! For oft we seemed 

As on some starless sea, — all dark above, 

All dark below,— yet, onward as we drove, 

To plough up light that ever round us streamed. 

But he who mourns is not as one bereft 

Of all he loved; thy living truths are left. 

Coleridge's regard for Allston was not only that of a friend, 
it was like the tenderest affection of an elder brother. Next to 
Wordsworth, as he said, he loved and honored him more than 
anyone else. 

The fragment on Rubens is a remarkable epitome. Its eight 
lines hold a volume of descriptive criticism and merited praise. 
It is certainly a wonderful condensation, teeming with thought 
poetically expressed. The writer remembers a conversation with 
Allston in which he said : "In my opinion Rubens has injured 
more artists than he has benefited." The voluptuous floridity of 
his style was constantly imitated by those who could not reach 
the height of his great qualities whereby a satisfying equipose 
was sustained. 

On Eubens. 

Thus o'er his art indignant Eubens reared 
His mighty head, nor critic armies feared. 



410 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

His lawless style, from vain pretension free, 
Impetuous rolling like a troubled sea, 
High o'er the rocks of Reason's ridgy verge 
Impending hangs ; but, ere the foaming surge 
Breaks o'er the bound, the under-ebb of taste 
Back from the shore impels the watery waste. 

Painting, sculpture, architecture, music, and poetry are mani- 
festations of the same natural endowment or genius. They are 
influenced according to certain natural aptitudes and capabilities 
of eye or ear or hand. But though the arts have a common ori- 
gin, and are branches from one root, few men of genius succeed 
in more than one branch. Allston may be numbered among that 
few. So balanced were natural qualities of genius in him that 
it is difficult to say whether he would have been less successful 
as a sculptor or poet than he was as a painter. His first at- 
tempt at modelling in clay was the head of St. Peter, of which 
"West said, " There is no man in England who can equal it." As 
already related, he supposed it to be an antique, till informed 
that it was Allston's work. Of Allston's poetry Coleridge, 
Wordsworth, and Southey have spoken in terms entitling him 
to high rank. His prose, too, abounds in poetry. His " Lect- 
ures on Art " are poetic treatises, analytical and philosophical. 
In one of them he has drawn a comparison between Os- 
tade and Raphael, which for descriptive force and beauty is, 
we think, unsurpassed. The exposition of genius in opposite 
manifestations is so effective and interesting that we reproduce 
it here : 

" In order, however, more distinctly to exhibit their common 
ground of invention, we will briefly examine a picture by Ostade, 
and then compare it with one by Raphael, than whom no two 
artists could well be imagined having less in common. The in- 
terior of a Dutch cottage forms the scene of Ostade's work, pre- 
senting something between a kitchen and a stable. Its princi- 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 411 

pal object is the carcass of a hog, newly washed and hung up 
to dry, subordinate to which is a woman nursing an infant ; the 
accessories — various garments, pots, kettles, and other culinary 
utensils. The bare enumeration of these coarse materials would 
naturally predispose the mind of one unacquainted with the 
Dutch school to expect anything but pleasure ; indifference, not 
to say disgust, would seem to be the only possible impression 
from a picture composed of such ingredients. And such, in- 
deed, would be their effect under the hand of any but a real ar- 
tist. Let us look into the picture and follow Ostade's mind as it 
leaves its impress on the several objects. Observe how he spreads 
his principal light, from the suspended carcass to the surround- 
ing objects, moulding it, so to speak, into agreeable shapes, here 
by extending it to a bit of drapery, there to an earthen pot ; 
then connecting it, by the flash from a brass kettle, with his 
second light, the woman and child ; and again turning the eye 
into the dark recesses through a labyrinth of broken chairs, old 
baskets, roosting fowls, and bits of straw, till a glimpse of sun- 
shine from a half-open window gleams on the eye, as it were, 
like an echo, and sending it back to the principal object, which 
now seems to act on the mind as the luminous source of all these 
diverging lights. But the magical whole is not yet completed ; 
the mystery of color has been called in to the aid of light, and so 
subtly blends that we can hardly separate them, at least until their 
united effect has first been felt, and after we have begun the pro- 
cess of cold analysis. Yet even then we cannot long proceed be- 
fore we find the charm returning. As we pass from the blaze of 
light on the carcass, where all the tints of the prism seem to be 
faintly subdued, we are met on its borders by the dark harslet, 
glowing like rubies ; then we repose awhile on the white cap and 
kerchief of the nursing mother ; then we are roused again by the 
flickering strife of the antagonist colors on a blue jacket and red 
petticoat ; then the strife is softened by the low yellow of a straw- 



412 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

bottomed chair ; and thus with alternating excitement and re- 
pose do we travel through the picture till the scientific explorer 
loses the analyst in the unresisting passiveness of a poetic 
dream. Now all this will no doubt appear to many, if not ab- 
surd, at least exaggerated ; but not so to those who have ever felt 
the sorcery of color. They, we are sure, will be the last to ques- 
tion the character of the feeling because of the ingredients which 
work the spell, and, if true to themselves, they must call it poe- 
try. Nor will they consider it any disparagement to the all- 
accomplished Eaphael to say of Ostade that he also was an 
artist. 

" We turn now to a work of the great Italian — the ' Death 
of Ananias.' The scene is laid in a plain apartment, which is 
wholly devoid of ornament, as became the hall of audience of 
the primitive Christians. The apostles (then eleven in number) 
have assembled to transact the temporal business of the Church, 
and are standing together on a slightly elevated platform, about 
which in various attitudes, some standing, others kneeling, is 
gathered a promiscuous assemblage of their new converts, male 
and female. This quiet assembly (for we still feel its quietness, 
in the midst of the awful judgment) is suddenly roused by the 
sudden fall of one of their brethren ; some of them turn and see 
him struggling in the agonies of death. A moment before he was 
in the vigor of life, as his muscular limbs still bear evidence ; but 
he had uttered a falsehood, and, an instant after, his frame is 
convulsed from head to foot. Nor do we doubt for a moment as 
to the awful cause : it is almost expressed in voice by those near- 
est to him, and, though varied by their different temperaments — 
by terror, astonishment, and submissive faith — this voice has yet 
but one meaning, ' Ananias has lied to the Holy Ghost.' The 
terrible words, as if audible to the mind, now direct us to him 
who pronounced his doom, and the singly raised finger of the 
apostle marks him the judge ; yet not of himself — for neither 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 413 

his attitude, air, nor expression has anything in unison with the 
impetuous Peter — he is now the simple, passive, yet awful in- 
strument of the Almighty ; while another on the right, with equal 
calmness though with more severity, by his elevated arm, as 
beckoning to judgment, anticipates the fate of the entering Sap- 
phira. Yet all is not done ; lest a question remain, the apostle 
on the left confirms the judgment. No one can mistake w T hat 
passes within him ; like one transfixed in adoration, his uplifted 
eyes seem to ray out his soul, as if in recognition of the divine 
tribunal. But the overpowering thought of Omnipotence is now 
tempered by the human sympathy of his companion, whose open 
hands, connecting the past with the present, seem almost to ar- 
ticulate, ' Alas, my brother ! ' By this exquisite turn we are 
next brought to John, the gentle almoner of the Church, who is 
dealing out their portions to the needy brethren. And here, as 
most remote from the judged Ananias, whose suffering seems not 
yet to have reached it, we find a spot of repose — not to pass by, 
but to linger upon, till we feel its quiet influence diffusing itself 
over the whole mind ; nay, till, connecting it with the beloved 
disciple, we find it leading us back through the exciting scene, 
modifying even our deepest emotions with a kindred tranquil- 
lity. 

" This is Invention ; we have not moved a step through the 
picture but at the will of the artist. He invented the chain 
which we have followed, link by link, through every emotion, 
assimilating many into one ; and this is the secret by which he 
prepared us, without exciting horror, to contemplate the struggle 
of mortal agony. This, too, is Art, and the highest Art, when 
thus the awful power, without losing its character, is tempered, 
as it were, to our mysterious desires. In the work of Ostade 
we see the same inventive power, no less effective, though acting 
through the medium of the humblest materials. 

" We have now exhibited two pictures, and by two painters 



414 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

who may be said to stand at opposite poles, and yet, widely 
apart as are their apparent stations, they are, nevertheless, ten- 
ants of the same ground, namely, actual nature ; the only differ- 
ence being that one is the sovereign of the purely physical, the 
other of the moral and intellectual, while their common medium 
is the catholic ground of the imagination. 

" We do not fear either sceptical demur or direct contradic- 
tion when we assert that the imagination is as much the me- 
dium of the homely Ostade as of the refined Eaphael. For 
what is that which has just wrapped us as in a spell, when we 
entered his humble cottage, which, as we wandered through it, 
invested the coarsest object with a strange charm ? Was it the 
truth of these objects that we there acknowledged ? In part, cer- 
tainly, but not simply the truth that belongs to their originals ; 
it was the truth of his own individual mind superadded to that 
of nature, nay, clothed upon besides by his imagination, imbuing 
it with all the poetic hues which float in the opposite regions of 
night and day, and which only a poet can mingle and make visi- 
ble in one pervading atmosphere. To all this our own minds, 
our own imaginations, respond, and we pronounce it true to 
both. We have no other rule, and well may the artists of every 
age and country thank the great Lawgiver that there is no other. 
The despised feeling which the schools have scouted is yet the 
mother of that science of which they vainly boast." 

Allston had a keen relish for novels, and his comments upon 
them were extremely interesting. The writer recalls an evening 
when, to a few friends, he discoursed upon Bulwer's "Eugene 
Aram," which he had just read. The easy flow of language, em- 
phasized by his expressive countenance and manner, made it a 
memorable occasion to his privileged listeners. Allston's great 
zest for novels was a kind of voucher for his capability in that 
branch of art. This is verified by his beautiful story " Monaldi," 
published in 1841, a tale packed with imagination and fancy. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 415 

We may open " Monaldi " at random and we shall meet a de- 
gree of thought taxing our own. To cite an instance which in 
its exacting quality may be matched on nearly every page, we 
give the following : 

" ' Nay,' said Monaldi, ' Baffaelle is one whom criticism can 
affect but little either way. He speaks to the heart, a part of 
us that never mistakes a meaning, and they who have one to 
understand should ask nothing in liking him but the pleasure of 
sympathy.' 

" ' And yet there are many technical beauties,' said the 
Advocate, ' which an unpractised eye needs to have pointed 
out.' 

" ' Yes, and faults too,' answered Monaldi ; ' but his execu- 
tion makes only a small part of that by which he affects us. But 
had he even the color of Titian, or the magic chiaro-oscuro of 
Correggio, they would scarcely add to that sentient spirit with 
which our own communes. I have certainly seen more beautiful 
faces ; we sometimes meet them in nature, faces to look at, and 
with pleasure, but not to think of like this. Besides, Baffaelle 
does more than make us think of him ; he makes us forget his 
deficiencies, or rather, supply them.' 

" 'I think I understand you, when the heart is touched, but a 
hint is enough,' said Bosalia. 

" ' Ay,' said the Advocate, smiling, ' 'tis with pictures as with 
life, only bribe that invisible finisher and we are sure to reach 
perfection. However, since there is no other human way to per- 
fection of any kind, I do not see that it is unwise to allow the 
allusion, which certainly elevates us while it lasts, for we cannot 
have a sense of the perfect, though imaginary, while we admit 
ignoble thoughts.' 

" ' This is a great admission for you, sir,' said Bosalia. ' 'Tis 
the best apology for romance I have heard.' " 

This citation may fitly introduce an extract from a review of 



416 WASHINGTON ALLS TON 

" Monaldi," written upon its publication, for the North American 
Bevieiv, by President Felton, of Harvard : 

" We have often before pondered Allston's pages to admire 
the grace and delicacy of his English poetical style. The book 
is equally remarkable for its rich and harmonious prose. The 
nice selection of epithets, the faultless arrangement of the mem- 
bers of the sentences, and the rhythmical cadence to which 
thought and expression seem to move united, combine to make 
it one of the most finished works of American literature. We 
fall here and there upon a most delicately wrought picture of 
some natural scene which betrays the artist's eye and hand ; then 
a deep moral reflection, speaking a varied experience and obser- 
vation of life, meets our attention and awakens a train of solemn 
thought ; then a maxim of art, worthy to be laid up among the 
treasures of memory is modestly put forth, but bears under its 
simple expression the wisdom of studious and thoughtful years. 
Such in our judgment is the character of this little volume by 
our great artist ; it is a work of high genius, of rare beauty, and 
of a moral purity and religious elevation which distinguishes it 
from most literary works of the age." 

As Allston's Aphorisms are published in the volume entitled 
" Lectures on Art and Poems," we cite but few of them, and 
these only as giving further evidence of his philosophic and epi- 
grammatic power : 

" If an artist love his art for its own sake he will delight in 
excellence wherever he meets it, as well in the work of another 
as in his own. This is the test of a true love." 

" Nor is this genuine love compatible with a craving for dis- 
tinction ; where the latter predominates it is sure to betray it- 
self before contemporary excellence either by silence or (as a 
bribe to the conscience) by a modicum of praise." 

" The enthusiasm of a mind so influenced is confined to it- 
self." 



WASHINGTON ALLSTOW 417 

" Distinction is the consequence, never the object, of a great 
mind." 

" The love of gain never made a painter ; but it has marred 
many." 

" The most common disguise of Envy is in the praise of what 
is subordinate." 

" Selfishness in art, as in other things, is sensibility kept at 
home." 

" The most intangible, and therefore the worst, kind of lie is 
a half-truth. This is the peculiar device of a conscientious de- 
tractor." 

" In the same degree that we overrate ourselves, we shall un- 
derrate others ; for injustice allowed at home is not likely to be 
corrected abroad. Never, therefore, expect justice from a vain 
man : if he has the negative magnanimity not to disparage you, 
it is the most you can expect." 

" The phrenologists are right in placing the organ of self-love 
in the back of the head, it being there where a vain man carries 
his intellectual light ; the consequence of which is that every man 
he approaches is obscured by his own shadow." 

" Some men make their ignorance the measure of excellence ; 
these are, of course, very fastidious critics ; for, knowing little, 
they can find but little to like." 

" The painter who seeks popularity in art closes the door 
upon his own genius." 

" Make no man your idol, for the best man must have faults ; 
and his faults will insensibly become yours, in addition to your 
own. This is as true in art as in morals." 

" Originality in art is the individualizing the Universal ; in 
other words, the impregnating some general truth with the in- 
dividual mind." 

" The painter who is content with the praise of the world in 

respect to what does not satisfy himself, is not an artist, but an 

27 



418 WASHINGTON- ALLSTON 

artisan : for though his reward be only praise, his pay is that of 
a mechanic, for his time, — and not for his art." 

" All excellence of every kind is but variety of truth. If we 
wish, then, for something beyond the true, we wish for that 
which is false. According to this test, how little truth is there 
in art ! Little indeed ! but how much is that little to him who 
feels it ! " 

" What light is in the natural world, such is fame in the intel- 
lectual ; both requiring an atmosphere in order to become per- 
ceptible. Hence the fame of Michael Angelo is, to some minds, 
a nonenity ; even as the sun itself would be invisible in vacuo." 

" A man may be pretty sure that he has not attained excellence, 
when it is not all in all to him. Nay, I may add, that if he 
looks beyond it, he has not reached it. This is not the less true 
for being good Irish" 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

ALLSTON'S ORIGINALITY. — HIS SYMPATHETIC FEELING FOE THE OLD 
MASTERS. — SOURCES OF HIS EMBARRASSMENTS. — HIS GREAT 
NATURAL GIFTS AND GREAT ATTAINMENTS. — UNFORTUNATE DIS- 
TRIBUTION AND ARRANGEMENT OF HIS WORKS. 

Allston was a man who represented, and may be regarded as 
the last great exemplar of the art of the sixteenth century. 
He manifested in his work the spirit and power of the great 
Italian masters. He copied none, but mingled indications of 
Titian and Veronese in color, Michael Angelo in form, and Ra- 
phael in graceful delineation of the affections. He engrafted 
upon his own style great qualities from the best examples 
of the past, but never so as to obscure his individuality. Pre- 
cedents stimulated and assisted in the development of himself. 
His style was not that of any master, Roman or Venetian, Ger- 
man, Spanish, or French ; it was his own, invigorated and in- 
spired by the good in all. 

They who have followed him in these pages will not think 
the above statement demands more for him than he deserves. 
We have endeavored to be true to our purpose to let the trib- 
utes of his friends suffice for his praise, and if, in this closing 
chapter, or elsewhere, we seem to have departed from that pur- 
pose, we may appeal to those tributes to show that we have not 
overstepped the truth. 

Nature in her prodigality from age to age endows certain 
men with transcendent gifts, by which they stand out conspicu- 
ously upon the background of their times. The tendency of 



420 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

human thought in reference to specially endowed characters is 
to apotheosize ; this tendency is a token of the highest in man, 
it is evidence of divinity within us thus to seek it in others. 
We bury the bodies of the departed, and we sepulchre in for- 
getfulness the evil they have done ; the good remains and be- 
comes more and more vivid with the lapse of time ; a few 
years encircle with a halo of divinity characters by no means 
faultless. The common tendency to forget faults and magnify 
the virtues of men is so strong that it has deified founders of 
religions, teachers of philosophy, and princes. It is a tendency 
as old as the race and as young as the present generation. Our 
own brief history illustrates this. Washington has become im- 
maculate, and Lincoln is rapidly approaching political canoniza- 
tion. 

We claim only special gifts for Allston, or rather gifts spe- 
cial in degree. He was a man in whom truth and conscience 
were uncompromising. Honor, the outflowing of these, was as 
pure as a ray from the moon. We cannot suspect him of insin- 
cerity in his confession of moral defects ; when he says, " I know 
I have faults enough and to spare," we take him at his word ; 
but we think we have prepared the way justly to claim for All- 
ston, without fear of being misunderstood, certain qualities and 
capabilities that entitle him to consideration as a genius, using 
the word in its highest and most inclusive sense. 

He is a benefactor who ministers to a love of the beauti- 
ful through painting, sculpture, architecture, poetry, or music. 
Along the track of the world's history great men, like mountain- 
peaks, rise and reflect upon the masses below their higher, purer 
light ; of these is he who transfixes on canvas thoughts, emo- 
tions, beauties — visions caught from that loftier communion 
with nature whereunto natural powers have lifted him. 

Emotions have by their visible effects a potentiality in ethi- 
cal development ; by contemplation and by experience of them 



WASHING TON ALLS TON 42 1 

morality is evolved. The highest art is that which makes vis- 
ible to the eye the emotions in their various incitements and con- 
sequences — which touches and makes apparent the affections 
and sensations embraced between the poles of love and hate. 
Such attainment presupposes mastery of artistic methods by 
extraordinary intellectual ability and mechanical aptitude. The 
man in whom the greatest intelligence and constructive power 
are associated with a strong moral sense, whether painter, 
sculptor, architect, poet, or musician, is in the fullest sense of 
the word, a genius. Such a man was Washington Allston. 

Reputations are regulated by exact law, they are never acci- 
dental as to their true relations, though accidental causes may 
temporarily enhance or obscure them. At the age of thirty 
Allston's fame — we use the word interchangeably with reputa- 
tion — was second to none, if, indeed, it was not greater than that 
of any artist of his years. In his very infancy greatness was 
predicted for him. The bent and quality of his mind were, from 
childhood to the culmination of his powers in mid-life, contin- 
ually manifested, and men recognized in him the characteris- 
tics of the true artist. From the construction of little mud- 
houses and miniature trees, from the ship drawn in chalk on 
the bottom of a wooden chair in Mrs. Calcott's school, to the 
nearly completed " Belshazzar's Feast" in 1821, his ascent had 
been continuous and conspicuous beyond that of any of his 
American contemporaries. He never once faltered in his de- 
termination to pursue, and his devotion to, art. His associ- 
ations were formed according to his artistic predilections. 
While at school in Newport his chief recreation was found 
in the shop of the quadrant-maker and portrait-painter, Mr. 
King. While in Cambridge he cultivated the acquaintance of 
the great miniature-painter, Malbone. His collegiate education 
gave that basis of discipline, that intellectual balance-wheel, if we 
may so express it, which is especially necessary, indeed indis- 



422 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

pensable, to the continuous progress of a mind in which imagina- 
tion, as it was in his case, is so powerful as to need bridling and 
regulating. Many a great genius has fallen short of his promise 
simply from want of a thorough literary education. 

Coincident with Allston's final return to America, and com- 
parative isolation, he developed a morbid sensitiveness which 
was at once the cause and consequence of the succession of 
embarrassments that wore upon his spirits and destroyed his 
health. We are glad, however, to say, in vindication of his 
countrymen, that his embarrassments were not from lack of 
patronage, private or public, individual or governmental, but 
rather, and solely, from want of the stimulation of artistic envi- 
ronment. His extreme conscientiousness in reference to his 
obligations to finish " Belshazzar " was the constant source of his 
pecuniary troubles. 

The splendid gifts wherewith nature had endowed him were 
met by a succession of untoward circumstances. While engaged 
on his first large picture, "The Dead Man Eevived," he was 
stricken by a sickness from which, though he lived some thirty 
years after, he never wholly recovered. 

His marriage with Miss Channing was full of promise for his 
future. A companionship so congenial and helpful as that which 
she brought him was of incalculable importance. In a thous- 
and ways, by intelligent advice, criticism or approval, she could 
constantly aid him in his work. By sympathy she could lessen 
difficulties, soothe the pain of disappointment, and mitigate the 
many trials in the struggle of life. By wifely interest, affection, 
and care she could make his home an elysium, recreative and 
strengthening, during his intervals of rest. The quiet, unpa- 
raded influences of true wifehood upon an artist of a refined and 
sympathetic nature is inestimable ; no force external to him has 
such potency of stimulation and encouragement. 

After his severe illness in Bristol, just as he had commenced 






WASHINGTON ALLSTON 423 

housekeeping in London, Mrs. Allston was, by a brief sickness, 
taken from him, and he was alone, bereft of a loving and de- 
voted wife, an incitement to work, and source 01 inspiration 
which nothing could supply. This most distressing calamity, in- 
volving so great loss, was soon followed by an event even more 
disastrous to his prospect of future distinction. His pictures 
were attracting great attention and rendering him conspicuous as 
a candidate for academic honors. Mr. West, President of the 
Eoyal Academy, was aged and infirm ; no man in England was so 
competent and so eligible to succeed him as was Allston. His 
fame was rapidly increasing in London, when the presidential 
chair was about to become vacant. At this juncture various 
causes conspired to draw him to America. These causes second- 
ing his patriotism were reinforced by tidings that through the 
mismanagement and dishonesty of his agent in South Carolina 
his patrimony was exhausted. This, though not the ostensible 
reason, was, we think, the superinducing influence that took him 
from his friends, and from his brilliant prospects in England. 

Still another misfortune had its inception in his great picture 
" Belshazzar's Feast." Had he remained in London this would 
probably in a few months have been finished, but in taking it to 
America he took it to a process of retrogression, which left it, 
some twenty-five years after, hopelessly unfinished. 

Another, for it may well be thought a most unfortunate 
event in its bearing upon Allston's fame was the throwing into 
the sea of Coleridge's notes on Home. The result of seven 
months' writing upon the Eternal City and its art, while in inti- 
mate daily intercourse with the young American artist, in ut- 
tering whose praises he never seemed to tire, doubtless con- 
tained many a tribute to his genius as glowing as that which 
called forth the envious inquiry of Northcote, " Who is this Mr. 
Allston ? " 

Nor did this succession of unfortunate events cease with his 



424 WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

death. Nothing could be more detrimental to his fame than the 
present arrangement of his pictures in the Boston Museum of 
Art. Most unfortunate, too, is the seclusion of his best works ; 
" Jacob's Dream " and " Uriel in the Sun " are in country-houses 
in England, where they are seldom seen. His large picture, 
"The Angel Releasing St. Peter," is in effect hidden from 
view in the chapel of the Hospital for the Insane in Worcester, 
Mass. This picture alone, could it be conspicuously exliibited, 
would attest Allston's ability, and introduce him to the present 
generation as worthy the high appreciation of his contempo- 
raries. It is hard to be reconciled to such a combination of 
misfortunes, it touches our sense of justice, and we feel that it is 
almost an outrage upon Allston's memory to expose so unfavora- 
bly his works where they are seen, and to seclude effectually 
some of his best. 

E. H. Dana, Jr., records that about three weeks before All- 
ston's death he told his wife that he would be obliged to stop for 
a while his work on his great picture, and finish a small one and 
sell it. They were embarrassed for money, and he was troubled 
with little debts. She prayed him not to do this, but he said he 
feared he must ; she said to him, " Why don't you finish the 
large picture and get the money for that?" "Martha, don't 
you think of me as all the rest of the world does," was his only 
reply, and she could say no more. 

There is a deep pathos in this anecdote. A man whose entire 
influence and work had ministered directly to the exaltation of 
human character ; a man of the highest genius allied to a femi- 
nine sensitiveness unfitting him to cope with his fellows in the 
struggle for subsistence ; a man in whom ideality and intellect 
pushed imagination into realms of the unseen that he might 
materialize visions of beauty to entertain, purify, and uplift his 
fellow-men, the gentlest and purest of beings burdened with 
poverty ! We cannot fix the obligation to assist such a man, 




Uriel in the Sun. 

From the original in the possession of the Duke of Sutherland. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 425 

but the simple fact of his want is an indictment against a state 
of things under which such a fact is possible. "lam grow- 
ing old and losing my physical powers. I am ready to go, I 
only ask time and strength to finish ' Belshazzar.' " These words 
were addressed to his sister-in-law a few weeks before his depart- 
ure; it was evidently toward evening with him. 

Viewed in its extended influences upon his life we may re- 
gard " Belshazzar " as his greatest misfortune. If this picture 
had never been commenced he could, and doubtless would, have 
overcome the other obstacles in the way of his happiness, his 
health, and the wider acknowledgment of his powers. Begun in 
the zenith of his career, this picture soon became a great burden, 
and as such increased until he yielded to the pressure and left it 
upon the earth with his tired body. So burdened, what wonder 
that clouds of indifference have gathered about his fame, and men 
knowing nothing of him but what they learn from the scanty and 
abortive display of his pictures in Boston should doubt his 
ability and question his title to eminence. The greater won- 
der is that, so oppressed, he attained to the measure of ac- 
knowledgment accorded him by his distinguished contempo- 
raries. 

His associates have passed away ; they who were boys in his 
later life are old men now, but with those who knew him the 
sweet influences of his character linger in memory, refining and 
elevating. To them it is a saddening thought that so soon none 
who knew him will remain to tell of an individuality and presence 
so charged with inspiration for others. This consideration has 
influenced our efforts. But great characters are immortal in 
the reflex of there lives upon their fellow-men. Though but 
little known to the present generation, Allston yet lives, and in 
the better thought and discrimination that will wait upon a 
higher development of taste and aesthetic culture his fame is 
safe, and the acknowledgment of his powers assured. This 



426 WASHINGTON ALL8T0N 

conviction is the inevitable result of investigation into his char- 
acter and genius. 

With a feeling of sadness, as if parting from an inspiring and 
healthful influence ; with a feeling almost of self-reproach that 
though executing our task in all faithfulness, we have yet fallen 
short of justice to our subject, we take our leave of Allston. 
In our converse with his genius, in our study of his character as 
an artist and a man, we have gained much to strengthen, much 
to suggest high endeavor and encourage the development of what 
is best in character. Thus our own experience gives us heart to 
hope that beneficent influences may accompany this biography. 



NDEX 



Adams, J. Q., 291. 

Allan, David, 168. 

Allston, Henry, 294. 

Allston, Washington, his parentage, 1 ; his 
birth, 2 ; his childhood, 5 ; his early 
traits, 5, 6 ; first evidence of artistic tal- 
ent, 7 ; his first effort in oil, 8 ; confirmed 
in purpose to paint, 8 ; early impressions, 
8, 9 ; at Newport, 9 ; his acquaintance 
with Malbone, 9 ; meets Miss Ann 
Channing, 9 ; his temper, 1 ; enters 
Harvard, 11 ; a dream of, 10 ; his college 
life, 12 ; his caricature and humorous 
work, 14, 26, 34 ; his character, 15 ; his 
commencement poem, 19 ; determined to 
paint, 20 ; his manners during college 
life, 28 ; his ignorance of modern history, 
29; his social habits, 30; his return to 
Charleston, 32 ; meets Malbone and 
Charles Fraser, 32 ; embarks for Eng- 
land, 36 ; compared with Malbone, 37 ; 
contributes to an exhibition at Somerset 
House, 40 ; his admiration for Reyn- 
olds, 40; Sir Thomas Lawrence's com- 
ment on, 41 ; his first impressions of 
London, 42 ; his confidence in his own 
powers, 46, 47 ; with Vanderlyn in 
Paris, 55 ; his impressions of Old Mas- 
ters, 55, 56, 57, 59 ; his first pecuniary 
embarrassment, 57 ; compared with Van- 
derlyn, 58 ; his theories of painting, 56, 
57 ; his journey to Italy, 58 ; visits 
Rome, 59 ; his love of classic beauty, 
64; his intimacy with Washington Ir- 
ving, 67 ; Washington Irving' s sketch of, 
68-75 ; conceives painting of " Belshaz- 
zar," 71 ; paints " Uriel," and " Elijah," 
72, 129 ; meets Earl of Egremont, 73, 
74 ; his views on art, 78, 79, 160, 204- 
206, 221, 222 ; his return to Boston, 80 ; 
his fame extended, 81 ; his marriage to 
Miss Channing, 81, 422 ; paints some of 



his finest portraits, 82 ; visits New Ha- 
ven, 82; his poetic compositions, 82; 
reads poem before the <I>. B. K., 82 ; his 
friendship with Jarvis resumed, 83 ; sails 
with his wife and Morse to England, 86 ; 
his friendship with Sir George Beau- 
mont, 89 ; his illness, 96 ; his sojourn at 
Clifton, 98 ; his description of " Dead 
Man Revived," 99 ; paints portrait of 
Coleridge, 104 ; goes to Bristol, 104; re- 
turns to London, 109; his wife's death 
and its effect, 104, 423 ; paints "Cavern 
Scene from Gil Bias," 111 ; his generos- 
ity, 111 ; his love of art, 111 ; his relig- 
ious feelings, 113, 246; sale of " Dead 
Man Revived," 118 ; his sketch of 
"Christ Healing," 119; his second visit 
to Paris, 126 ; his copy of " Marriage at 
Cana," 127, 128 ; returns to London, 
129 ; wins first prize at British Institu- 
tion, 130 ; his final return to America, 
135 ; his words concerning his English 
friends, 137; his arrival at Boston, 140; 
elected associate member of Royal 
Academy, 140 ; elected honorary mem- 
ber New York Historical Society, 149 ; 
his engagement to Miss Martha R. Dana, 
167; his method of painting, 181-203; 
his sonnet on Art, 199 ; estimate of his 
work by Greenough, 201-203 ; his coun- 
sel to Cole, 203 et seq. ; his bad health, 
209 ; his views on carving retina of eye 
in sculpture, 217; his dangerous sick- 
ness, 218 ; his opinion of Cogdell's bust 
of Moultrie, 219 ; declines offer to paint 
for United States Government, 228, 287, 
291 ; his reasons for declining, 230 et seq., 
289, 291 ; his preference for Scripture 
subjects, 233 ; his price for work, 234 ; 
marries Martha R. Dana, 239 ; his words 
on his second wife, 241 ; his opinion of 
Cogdell's "Modestia," 241; settles in 



428 



INDEX 



Cambridgeport, 242 ; his habits, 242 et 
seq. ; his courtesy and kindness, 244, 
245 ; his painting " Jeremiah," 247 ; sug- 
gests subjects to Cogdell, 251 ; his opin- 
ion of Flaxman, 252 ; his opinion of 
Cogdell' s "Hagar and Ishmael," 254 et 
seq., 294, 295, 296, 297 ; his advice to 
Cogdell, 256 et seq. ; his feelings con- 
cerning " Belshazzar," 258 et seq.; Ed- 
ward Everett's interview with, 263 ; de- 
clines to paint historical picture for 
South Carolina, 266 ; his opinion of 
Haydon's ''Entrance into Jerusalem," 
268,359,360; advice to Sully concern- 
ing " Mother and Child," 268 ; his opin- 
ion of Cogdell's bust of Dr. Elliott, 269 ; 
his comment on Greenough's statue of 
Washington, 273 ; his views on costume 
in statues, 274 et seq. ; his opinion of 
Greenough, 276; vindication of, against 
accusations of indolence, 277 et seq. , 287 ; 
his indebtedness to his friends for assist- 
ance, 289 ; invited to paint a panel in the 
capitol at Washington, 290 ; his words to 
Cogdell on his projected visit to Italy, 
292 ; his physical condition, 294 ; his pen- 
sion to his mother, 295, 296 ; his portrait 
of his mother, 296 ; his opinion of Pow- 
ers, 297 ; exhibition of his pictures in 
Boston in 1839, 298 et seq. ; his love for 
his mother, 300 ; his profits from Boston 
exhibition, 301 ; his habits of economy, 
301 ; his comments on profits of art, 302 ; 
bust of, by Clevenger, 302, 303 ; his 
opinion of Clevenger, 303 ; death of his 
mother, 305, 306 ; his dissatisfaction 
with prints from his pictures, 310 ; his 
advice to beginner in art, 311 ; his book 
" Monaldi," 312, 313, 374, 414, 415, 416 ; 
relinquishes share in inheritance in be- 
half of his brother, 314, 321, 322 ; his 
sister's death, 315 ; his opinion of Rac- 
zynski's " History of Modern Art in 
Germany," 316, 317 ; scarcity of his 
sketches, 318 ; his recollections of Borne, 
319; " Spalatro " exhibited in Charles- 
ton, 320 ; his advice to Cogdell on visit 
to Italy, 319, 325, 326 ; his tribute to 
Legare, 326 ; his last letter, 327 ; his last 
words, 330 ; his death, 329, 330 ; his fu- 
neral, 333 ; his sensitive imagination, 346, 
347; his disinclination to show "Bel- 
shazzar," 348-351, 422, 424, 425 ; recol- 



lections of, by R. H. Dana, Jr., 354 et 
seq. ; his admiration for Coleridge, 355, 
356 ; anecdotes of Allston and Coleridge 
while in Italy, 357, 358, 359 ; his willing- 
ness to help other artists in their work, 
359, 379 ; anecdote displaying his fair- 
ness in business dealings, 360 ; his con- 
scientiousness, 361 ; his comment on 
Carlyle, 361 ; anecdotes of his kindness, 
361, 362, 363 ; his comment on Hazlitt, 
363 ; on Sir Thomas Lawrence, 364 ; his 
painting of the head of Judas. 364 ; his 
dream of a beautiful woman, 365 ; his 
comment on Mme. de Stael, 365 ; on 
Goethe, 365 ; on Rembrandt, 365 ; on 
music, 365 ; on Pere la Chaise, 365 ; on 
Canova, 366 ; on Titian, 366 ; on Raph- 
ael, 366 ; on the sublime, 366 ; his love 
for his countrymen, 367 ; tributes to, by 
Longfellow, Wordsworth, Bryant, Les- 
lie, Collard, Collins, Professor Henry 
Reed, Colonel William Drayton, W. Y. 
Dearborn, Charles Frazer, J. H. Hay- 
ward, 36S et seq. ; by Horatio Green- 
ough, 383 et seq. ; by W. W. Story, 388 ; 
his conversational powers, 71, 378 ; an 
idealist, 380, 381 ; his literary work, 394 
et seq. ; Green's estimate of, 394 et seq. ; 
Holmes's impression of, 395 ; his versa- 
tility, 398, 410 ; his love of symmetry, 
398 ; comparison between Ostade and 
Raphael, 410 et seq. ; his fondness for 
novels, 414; his "Lectures on Art and 
Poems," 416 ; his aphorisms, 416 et seq. ; 
his originality, 419 et seq. ; his sympa- 
thetic feeling for Old Masters, 419 et seq. ; 
his fame, 421, 425 ; his poetry, see 
Poems ; his letters, see Letters, see 
Paintings, see Portraits. 

Allston, Mrs. Washington. See Miss Ann 
Channing and Miss Martha R. Dana. 

Allston, William, father of Washington 
Allston, 2, 4. 

Allston, William M., 308, 314, 321, 322. 

*' Allston's Room" in Boston Museum of 
Fine Arts, 352. 

"Alpine Scenery," by Allston, 360. 

" America to Great Britain," poem by All- 
ston, 397, 398. 

Amory, Mr., 210, 212. 

"Angel Releasing St. Peter," by Allston, 
92, 93, 95, 190, 424, 

Angelo, Michael. See Michael Angelo. 



INDEX 



429 



" Anne Page," by Leslie, 144, 146. 

Aphorisms, by Allston, 416 et seq. 

" Apollo Belvedere," 38, 65. 

Appleton, Thomas G., 93-95. 

" Ariadne," by Vanderlyn, 237. 

Art, Allston's love for, 111, 302 ; his views 
on, 78, 79, 160, 410 et seq.; technical 
method of Allston's art, 181-203 ; All- 
ston's sonnet on, 199; as a profession, 
256 et seq.; importance of mastering ele- 
ments of, 311 ; invention and imagination 
in, 413, 414. 

Ball, Mr., buys "Jeremiah," 247. 

Banditti favorite subjects, 33. 

Beatrice, head of, painted by Allston, 161. 

Beaumont, Sir George, his interest in All- 
ston, 89; his "Cynical Philosopher," 
89 ; his opinion of " Dead Man Re- 
vived," 90 ; makes Allston an offer for 
"Angel Releasing St. Peter," 91; his 
opinion of the picture, 92 ; his death, 
95, 152, 156, 369. See Letters. 

Beechey, Sir William, 45, 185. 

Belin, Mr., 308-310. 

"Belshazzar's Feast." See paintings by 
Allston. 

Bendemann, 312, 317. 

Bentivoglio Cardinal, portrait of, 13. 

Benvenuti, 76. 

Boston Advertiser, description of " Jere- 
miah," 248, 249. 

Boston, Allston Exhibition at, 298, 301 ; 
Museum of Fine Arts, 352. 

Bowman, Mr., 35. 

"Boyhood," poem by Allston, 306. 

Brown, G. L., 244. 

Bryant, William Cullen, his tribute to 
Allston, 370, 371. See Letters 

" Buck's Progress," by Allston, 14. 

Burnet's etchings from Raphael's cartoons, 
310. 

Calcott, 152. 

Cambridge, Allston's college life at, 12. 

Cambridgeport, Allston settles in, 241. 

Can ova, 366, 386. 

Caracci, Ludovico, 218. 

Carlyle, Thomas, Allston's criticisms of 

his English, 361. 
Carravaggio, 386. 
"Catherine and Petruchio," by Allston, 

83. 



" Cavern Scene from Gil Bias," by Allston, 
111, 122, 123, 266. 

Chalon, Alfred, 147. 

Chalon, John, 147. 

Channing, Miss Ann, 9, 10 , her marriage 
to Allston, 81, 422; her devotion to 
Allston during his illness, 98 ; her death, 
109 ; her funeral, 110. 

Channing, Mrs. See Letters. 

Channing. William Ellery, his comment on 
Allston's marriage, 82 ; his views on as- 
sistance of Allston, 282 ; portrait of, by 
Allston, S27. 

" Chanting Cherubs," by Greenougb, 252. 

" China Menders," by Wilkie, 147. 

"Christ Healing," sketch of, by Allston, 
119, 120. 

"Christ Looked on Peter," by Allston, 46. 

"Christ Raising the Widow's Son," by 
Leslie, 130. 

Clark, Don, 23. 

Claude, 212, 244, 292. 

Clevenger, his bust of Allston, 302, 303, 325. 

Clifton, Allston's sojourn at, 98. 

Cogdell, John F., 2C8, 213 ; his bust of 
Moultrie, 218, 219; his "Modestia," 241; 
his bust of Dr. Elliott, 252, 269; his 
"Hagar and Ishmael," 254 et seq., 294, 
295, 296, 297; Allston's advice to, 256 
et seq.; his bust of Scott, 2S6; his pro- 
jected visit to Italy, 319. See Letters. 

Cole, Thomas, counsel to, by Allston, 203 
et seq. , 297. 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 61, 62 ; his high 
appreciation of Allston, 62 ; his conver- 
sational powers, 63 ; Allston's comment 
on, 64 ; Allston's admiration for.355, 366 ; 
his physical suffering, 77; praises All- 
ston in London, 79 ; his attention to 
Allston during illness, 96, 97 ; his por- 
trait painted by Allston, 104 ; Allston's 
opinion of, 104 ; his friendship for All- 
ston, 106, 409 ; his condolence with All- 
ston on Mrs. Allston's death, 114 ; his 
views on war between England and the 
United States, 116; his " Essays on Fine 
Arts," 129 ; portrait of his daughter by 
Collins, 142 ; his separation from his 
wife, 356 ; anecdote concerning Allston 
and Coleridge, 357-359; his comment on 
London authors, 366 ; reference to by 
Wordsworth, 369 ; publishes poem of 
Allston's in " Sybilline Leaves," 397; 



430 



INDEX 



lines on, by Allston, 409 ; his notes on 
Rome, 423. See Letters. 

Collard, W. F,, his opinion of Allston, 138 ; 
his tribute to, 372, 373. See Letters. 

Collins, William, his opinion of Allston, 
126, 142 ; his portrait of Coleridge's 
daughter, 142 ; his work in the Academy, 
169, 324 ; his acquaintance with Allston, 
373, 374. See Letters. 

Color, Allston's theory of, 182 etseq. Ho- 
ratio Greenough on, 223, 224. 

Columbus, first interview with Ferdinand 
and Isabella, suggested as a subject by 
Allston, 237. 

"Contemplation," by Leslie, 163. 

Cornwallis, General, 5. 

Costume in statues, 273 et seq. 

" Count," title of, bestowed on Allston, 30. 

" Court of Titania," by Allston, 349, 39L 

Cowper, 307. 

Critics, Allston's comment on, 49-52. 

"Crossing the Delaware," by Sully, 238. 

"Cynical Philosopher," by Sir George 
Beaumont, 89. 

" Damon and Musidora," by Allston, 34. 

Dana, Charlotte, 329. 

Dana, Edmund T., 23, 83, 332, 334. 

Dana, Miss SMartha R., her marriage to 
Allston, 239 ; her disposition, 241, 424. 

Dana, R. H., extract from memoranda of, 
10, 11 ; his description of Allston's 
"Buck's Progress," 14, 313; hears of 
Allston's death, 332; views "Belshaz- 
zar," 334 ; his intention of writing All- 
ston's life, 390. See Letters. 

Dana, R. H., Jr., his words on Allston's 
death, 330 et seq., 334, 349 ; his recollec- 
tions of Allston, 354 et seq. 

"Dana's Memoranda," extracts from, 10, 
11. 

"Danger," by Willes, 162. 

Daubigny, Charles, 279 et seq. 

" Dead Abel," by Horatio Greenough, 216. 

"Dead Man Revived," by Allston, 90, 99, 
102, 118, 210. 

Dearborn, W. Y., 376, 377. See Letters. 

" Death of Ananias," by Raphael, 412, 
413. 

" Death of Archbishop Sharpe," by Allan, 
168. 

"Death on the White Horse," by West, 44, 
122. 



" Diana of the Chase," by Allston, 145. 
Drawings from Old Masters, 285. 
Drayton, Col. William, 376. See Letters. 
"Dream of Arcadia," by Cole, 297. 
Dunlap's " History of the Art of Design," 

277. 
Dusseldorf, 311. 

Egremont, Earl of, 73, 74, 132, 146, 157, 
227, 354. 

" Elijah in the Desert," by Allston, 72, 129, 
131, 196. 

Elliott, Dr., Cogdell's bust of, 252, 269. 

"Energy of Character," Allston's Com- 
mencement Poem, 19. 

"Entrance of our Saviour into Jerusalem," 
by Haydon, 165, 268, 359, 360. 

" Essays on the Fine Arts," by Coleridge, 
129. 

Everett, Edward, 263, 264. See Letters. 

Falconet, 292, 293. 

" Falling Group," poem by Allston, 407. 

"Fall of Babylon," by Martin, 147. 

"Falstaff," by Newton, 146. 

Felton, Professor, 416. 

Field's " Harmony of Colors," 192. 

Flagg, George, 252, 299, 303. 

Flagg, Dr. Henry C, 6, 7. See Letters. 

Flaxman, 252. 

Flesh tints, 182 et seq. 

"Florimel," by Allston, 162. 

Fraser, Charles, 32, 320, 377, 378. See 
Letters. 

"French Soldier Telling a Story," by All- 
ston, 40. 

Fuseli, 39, 44. 

Genius, artistic, Allston's words on, 410 
et seq. 

George the Third, 80. 

Gillman, Mrs., 356, 358. 

" Gladiator," Allston's drawing from, 38- 
46. 

Glazing, 185 et seq. 

Goethe, 365. 

Green, J. H, 323, 326,394. 

Greenough, John, 214-225,334 et seq. 

Greenough, Henry, his description of tech- 
nical side of Allston's art, 181-203 ; his 
" Chanting Cherubs," 252 ; employed by 
U. S. Government, 253 ; his statue of 
Washington, 273, 325 ; Allston's opinion 
of, 276. See Letters. 



INDEX 



•±31 



Greenough, Horatio, Allston's opinion of, 
215, 216; his "Dead Abel," 216; words 
on color, 223, 224 ; his eulogy of Allsfcon, 
383 et seq. 

" Group of Angels," poem by Allston, 406. 

"Guess my Name," by Wilkie, 169. 

"Hagar and Ishmael," by Cogdell, 251, 
254 et seq., 294, 297. 

" Hamlet," by Fuseli, 44. 

Harding, Chester, 361. 

" Harmony of Coloring for Interior Deco- 
rations," by Hay, 192. 

Harris, John, 84. 

Hay's " Harmony of Coloring for Interior 
Decorations," 192. 

Haydon, B. R., 163, 165, 170, 268, 359, 360. 

Hay ward, J. H, 345, 378. See Letters. 

Hazlitt, 123, 363. 

" Hermia and Helena," by Allston, 164, 
251. 

" History of the Arts of Design," by Dun- 
lap, 277. 

" History of Modern Art in Germany," by 
Count Raczynski, 316, 317. 

Hogarth, 219. 

Hoit, Albert G., 323, 324. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 395. 

"Hunterian Oration, The," by Green, 323. 

" Importunate Author, The, " by New- 
ton, 165, 169. 

"Interior of a Whiskey Still," by Wilkie, 
163. 

Invention and imagination in art, 413, 414. 

Irving, Washington, meets Allston, 61 ; 
their intimacy, 63-67 ; his sketch of All- 
ston, 68-71; his opinion of "Jacob's 
Ladder," 139; his "Sketch Book," 157, 
161, 164, 170 ; with Verplanck in Wash- 
ington, 262 ; his return to London, 170. 
See Letters. 

"Isaac of York," by Allston, 272. 

Italy, Allston's journey to, 58; cost of 
living in, 151 ; Cogdell's projected visit 
to, 319. 

" Jacob's Dream," by Allston, 73, 132, 

133, 139, 142, 152, 156, 310, 391, 424. 

''Jacob's Dream," by Rembrandt, 297. 

Jameson, Mrs., her description of "Jacob's 
Dream," 132; extracts from her me- 
moirs, 298 et seq. ; her words on the All- 
ston Exhibition in Boston, 298 et seq. 



Jarvis, Leonard, 83, 112, 347. See Letters. 
"Jeremiah," by Allston, 167, 247 et seq., 

392. 
Judas, head of, by Allston., 364. 

Kadlbach, 312, 317. 
King, Mr., 97, 104. 
Knapp, John. See Letters. 

Lamb, Charles, 354, 355. 

"Landscape," by Allston, 123, 124. 

Landseer, Sir Edwin, 163. 

Las Casas, 148, 150. 

Lawrence, Sir Thomas, his comment on 
Allston's work, 41 , 131 ; his work in the 
Academy, 169 ; his death, 227 ; Allston's 
comment on, 364 ; his influence, 385. 

" Lectures on Art and Poems," by Allston, 
416. 

Legare, 326. 

Leslie, Charles R., living with Allston, 71 ; 
visits Paris, 72; his picture of "Anne 
Page," 73, 144, 146 ; becomes^ Allston's 
pupil, 86 ; his portrait of Allston, 88 ; 
his description of Allston's illness, 97; 
his words on " Dead Man Revived," 
100; his picture, "Murder of Rutland," 
122 ; accompanies Allston to Paris, 126 ; 
his opinion of "Uriel," 130; wins sec- 
ond prize at British Institution, 130 ; his 
picture, "Sir Roger de Coverley," 147, 
152, 156, 159, 162; introduced to Sir 
George Beaumont, 152, 156 ; his picture, 
"Gypsying Party," 157, 162, 165; his 
picture, " Contemplation," 163 ; his 
picture, " May Day in Reign of Queen 
Elizabeth," 168 ; his picture from " Mer- 
ry Wives of Windsor," 225 ; his poverty, 
226 ; introduces Collins to Allston, 373. 
See Letters. 

Letters : 
Allston to Mrs. Channing, 327. 
Allston to Cogdell, 208, 213, 216, 219, 
221, 239, 250, 254, 269, 270, 285, 286, 
291, 293, 295, 303, 307, 319, 321, 324, 
325. 
Allston to Drayton et als., 266. 
Allston to Dr. Flagg, 15, 16, 18. 
Allston to Charles Praser, 42. 
Allston to H. Greenough, 207. 
Allston to Irving, 71 , 72. 
Allston to Jarvis, 272, 287. 
Allston to Knapp, 49, 51, 243. 



432 






INDEX 



Allston to Leslie, 165, 171, 172, 173, 174, 

211, 214, 323. 
Allston to McMurtrie, 119, 123, 143, 151, 

158, 249, 310, 312, 314, 317. 
Allston to his mother, 19, 300. 
Allston to Pickering, 203. 
Allston to Count Raczynski, 316. 
Allston to Verplanck, 148, 153, 179, 215, 

230, 235. 
Thomas G. Appleton to Mr. R. H. Dana, 

93. 
Sir George Beaumont to Allston, 90, 92, • 

103, 137, 154. 
William Cullen Bryant to R. H. Dana, 

370. 
Coleridge to Allston, 76, 114, 127. 
W. F. Collard to R. H. Dana, 372. 
Collins to Allston, 140. 
Collins to R. H. Daua, 373. 
W. Y. Dearborn to R. H. Dana, 376. 
Drayton to Allston, 265. 
Drayton to R. H. Dana, 376. 
Edward Everett to R. H. Dana, 263. 
Charles Fraser to R. H. Dana, 377. 
Henry Green ough, 181. 
Horatio Greenough to Allston, 223. 
Horatio Greenough to R. H. Dana, 383, 

385. 
J. H. Hayward to R. H. Dana, 378. 
Leslie to Allston, 142, 146, 157, 162, 167, 

175, 224. 
Leslie to R. H. Dana, 371. 
Longfellow to R. H. Dana, 368. 
Henry Reed to R. H. Dana, 374. 
L. M. Sargent to R. H. Dana, 347. 
W. W. Story to R. H. Dana, 388. 
Unknown American Artist to R. H. 

Dana, 380. 
Verplanck to Allston, 149, 235, 239, 253, 

261, 290. 
Verplanck to R. H. Dana, 229. 
Wordsworth to R. H. Dana, 369. 
" Liber Studiorum," Turner's, 204. 
London authors, Coleridge's comment on, 

366. 
Longfellow. See Letters. 
" Lorenzo and Jessica," by Allston, 392. 
Love, Allston's comment on, 47, 4S. 

" Macbeth andBanquo," by Martin, 162. 
McMurtrie. See Letters. 
Malbone, Allston meets, 9 ; Allston's opin- 
ion of, 12 ; accompanies Allston to Eu- 



rope, 36 ; his lack of appreciation of Old 
Masters, 36 ; compared with Allston, 37; 
their acquaintance, 421. 

"Marius," by Vanderlyn, 237. 

"Marriage of Cana, The," by Paul Vero- 
nese, 55, 56, 127, 128. 

Martin, 147, 162, 170. 

Marys : The Three Marys at the Tomb vf 
the Saviour, Allston's conception of, for 
a painting, 233. 

Masquerade at college, 24. 

" May Day in the Reign of Queen Eliza- 
beth," by Leslie, 168. 

"Medora," by Greenough, 276. 

Merriam, Miss, 245. 

Mexico, flag unfurled at, by American Am- 
bassador, proposed as a subject for a 
painting, 265. 

Michael Angelo, 59, 60, 211, 366, 381, 386, 
408, 418. 

" Mirabeau," Carlyle's, 361. 

"Miriam the Prophetess," by Allston, 167. 

Mitchell, Dr. Edward, 313. 

" Modestia," by Cogdell, 241. 

" Monaldi," by Allston, 312, 313, 374, 414, 
415, 416. 

Moore, Elizabeth, 2. 

Moore, Colonel James, 1, 2. 

Moore, Rachel, 1 ; romance of her life, 3, 
4; marries William Allston, 3; marries 
Dr. H. C. Flagg, 6, 7. 

Morpeth, Lord, 349. 

Morse, S. F. B., accompanies Mr. and 
Mrs. Allston to England, 86 ; becomes 
Allston's pupil, 86 ; his opinion of All- 
ston, 86, 87 ; founder of National Acad- 
emy of Design, 88 ; his success in 
Charleston, 151 ; at Boston, 161 ; visits 
London, 225 ; recommended by Allston 
to United States Government, 228, 238 ; 
his love and reverence for Allston, 2b2 ; 
his desire to relieve Allston, 283. 

"Mother and Child," by Sully, 268. 

" Mountaineers, The," by Allston, 34. 

" Mount Vesuvius," by Allston, 10. 

Mulready, William, a picture by, 169. 

" Murder of Rutland by Clifford," by Les- 
lie, 122. 

Music, its effect on Allston, 365. 

"Mysteries of Udolpho," by Allston, 34. 

Neville, 2, 3, 4. 
i Newspaper fabrications, 304. 



INDEX 



433 



Newton, Stuart, visits Paris with Allstcm, 
72 ; incident of his art studies in Italy, 
85 ; his picture, " Falstaff," 146 ; his pict- 
ure in London Gallery, 163; his "Im- 
portunate Author," 165-169 ; Allston 
dines with, 361. 

Nicknames at college, 31. 

Northcote, Sir James, 79, 80, 423. 

Old Masters, Allston's impression of, 
55-57 ; Malbone's indifference to, 36 ; 
value of for inspiration and instruction, 
197 ; drawings from, 285 ; Allston's sym- 
pathetic feeling for, 419. 

Opie, 44. 

Originality in work urged by Allston, 217, 
218. 

Ostade, 410 et seq. 

" Our Saviour in the Garden," by Haydon, 
170. 

Paintings : 
By Allan : 

"Death of Archbishop Sharpe," 168. 
By Allston : 

"Alpine Scenery," 360. 

"Angel Releasing St. Peter," 92, 93, 

95, 190, 424. 
"Beatrice," 161. 
" Belshazzar's Feast," 71, 73-75, 144, 

152, 166, 167, 210, 226, 250, 228 etscq., 

288, 304, 307, 308, 327, 334 et seq., 

345 et seq., 350 et seq., 391, 422, 423, 

425. 
" Buck's Progress," 14. 
"Catherine and Petruchio," 83. 
"Cavern Scene from Gil Bias," 111, 

122, 123, 266. 
"Christ Looked on Peter," 46. 
"Christ Healing," 119, 120. 
" Court of Titania," 349, 391. 
" Damon and Musidora," 34. 
" Dead Man Revived," 90, 99, 100, 102, 

118, 210. 
" Diana of the Chase," 145. 
"Elijah in the Desert, "72, 129, 131,196. 
"Florimel,"162. 

" French Soldier Telling a Story," 40. 
" Hermia and Helena," 164, 251. 
" Isaac of York," 272. 
"Jacob's Dream," 73, 132, 133, 139, 

142, 152, 156, 310, 391, 424. 
"Jeremiah," 167, 247 et seq., 392. 
"Judas, Head of," 364. 



Paintings {continued) : 
By Allston (continued) : 

" Landscape," 123, 124. 

"Lorenzo and Jessica," 392. 

" Miriam the Propheiess," 167. 

" Mountaineers," 34. 

"Mount Vesuvius," 10. 

"Mysteries of Udolpho," 34. 

" Poor Author's Visit to Rich Book- 
seller," 83. 

" Prometheus Bound," 82. 

" Rocky Coast with Banditti," 40. 

" Rosalie Listening to the Music," 392. 

" Satan Rallying His Hosts," 32. 

"Sisters, The," 192. 

" Spalatro," 320, 321. 

"Spanish Girl," 194,318. 

"Spenser," picture from, 161. 

" Troubadour, The," 193, 272. 

" Una in the Wood," 392. 

"Uriel in the Sun," 72, 73, 129, 130, 
131, 136, 349, 424. 

"Valentine, The," 82. 

" Virgin and Child," 121, 124, 145. 
By Sir George Beaumont : 

" Cynical Philosopher," 89. 
By Cole : 

" Dream of Arcadia," 297. 
By Fuseli: 

"Hamlet," 44. 

" Sin Separating Death and Satan," 44. 
By Haydon : 

" Entrance of Our Saviour into Jerusa- 
lem," 165, 268,359,360. 

"Raising of Lazarus," 170. 

"Our Saviour in the Garden," 170. 
By Leslie : 

" Anne Page," 73, 144, 146. 

" Contemplation," 163. 

" Gypsying Party," 157, 162, 165. 

"May Day in Reign of Queen Eliza- 
beth," 168. 

" Merry Wives of Windsor," 225. 

"Murder of Rutland," 122. 

"Roger de Coverley, 147, 152, 156, 159, 
162. 
By Martin : 

"Belshazzar,"170. 

"Fall of Babylon," 147. 

" Macbeth and Ban quo," 162. 
By Newton : 

" Falstaff," 146. 

"Importunate Author," 165-169. 



434 



INDEX 



Paintings (continued) : 
By Rembrandt : 

"Jacob's Dream," 297. 
By Sully : 

" Crossing the Delaware," 238. 
" Mother and Child," 268. 
By Vanderlyn : 
" Ariadne," 57. 
"Marius," 57. 
By West : 

" Death on White Horse," 44, 123. 
By Wilkie : 

" China Menders," 147. 

" Guess My Name," 169. 

"Interior of Highland Whiskey Still," 

163. 
" Penny Wedding," 153. 
By Willis: 

"Danger," 162. 
" Paint King, The," poem by Allston, 400 

et seq. 
Paris, Allston at, 55, 136. 
"Penny Wedding," by Wilkie, 152. 
Pennsylvania Acad, of Fine Arts, pur- 
chases " Dead Man Revived," 118. 
Pere la Chaise, 365. 
" Peter Bell," by Wordsworth, 156. 
Phillips, J., 360. 
Pickering, H. See Letters. 
"Picturesque Anatomy," by J. R. Smith, 

218. 
Pigments, 200, 201. 

" Pilgrims, Landing of," suggested as a sub- 
ject for Allston, 235, 236. 
Pine, pictures of, 13. 
Poems : 

By Allston : 

" Rosalie," 395, 396. 
" America to Great Britain," 397, 398. 
"Sylphs of the Seasons," 399. 
" The Paint King," 400. 
" Group of Angels," 406. 
"Falling Group, 407. 
" On Rembrandt," 408. 
" On Michael Angelo," 408. 
" On Coleridge," 409, 
" On Rubens," 409. 
" On an Old Pau- of Bellows," 367. 
"Sonnet on Art," 199. 
"Boyhood," 306. 
"To the Moon," 53. 
"Poor Author's Visit to Rich Book- 
seller," 83. 



Portraits : 
By Allston : 
Of Mrs. Allston, 82, 296. 
Of Dr. Channing, 82, 327. 
Of Coleridge, 104, 108. 
Of E. T. Dana, 83. 
Of King, 104. 
Of Robert Rogers, 34. 
By Collins : 

Of Coleridge's daughter, 142. 
By Lawrence : 

Of West, 169. 
By Leslie : 

Of Allston, 88. 
By Stuart : 

Of Trumbull, 145. 
Powers, 297, 325. 

Prints : Burnett's etchings from Raphael's 
cartoons, 310; prints from Allston's 
pictures, 310. 
" Prometheus," sketch of, by West, 317. 
"Prometheus Bound," by Allston, 32. 
" Proofs of a Conspiracy," 28. 

Racztnskt, Count, 311, 316. See Letters. 

"Raising of Lazarus," by Haydon, 170. 

Raphael, 59, 60, 310, 366, 385, 386, 410 et 
seg., 415. 

Reed, Professor Hairy. See Letters. 

Rembrandt, 297, 365, 408. 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 40, 80, 160, 189, 197, 
200, 207, 292, 298, 344, 354. 

Richardson, Eben, 11. 

"Richmond Hill," by Turner, 153. 

Robinson's, Professor, "Proofs of a Con- 
spiracy," 28. 

"Rocky Coast with Banditti," by Allston, 
40. 

" Roger de Coverley," by Leslie, 147, 152, 
156, 159, 162. 

Rogers, Robert, portrait of, by Allston, 34. 

Rogers, Samuel, 334. 

Rome, eminent persons in, 60, 61 ; Allston 
at, 59 ; Coleridge's notes on, 423. 

" Rosalie," poem by Allston, 395, 396. 

" Rosalie Listening to the Music," by All- 
ston, 392. 

"Rotterdam," by Calcott, 152. 

Rubens, 185, 200, 409. 

Sargent, L. M. See Letters. 
" Satan Rallying his Hosts," by Allston, 
32. 



INDEX 



435 



Scollay, Miss Catherine, 247. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 158, 286. 

Scripture subjects, Allston's preference 

for, 233. 
Shelley, 60. 
"Sin Separating Death and Satan," by 

Fuseli, 44. 
"Sisters, The," by Allston, 192. 
" Sketch Book," by Washington Irving, 

157, 161, 164, 170. 
Sketches by Allston, 318. 
Slaves of the Allston family, sale of, 308, 

309, 314. 
Smith's, J. R., "Picturesque Anatomy," 

218. 
Smybert, 13. 
South Carolina, correspondence concerning 

historical picture for, 263. 
Southey, 27. 

"Spalatro," by Allston, 320, 321. 
" Spanish Girl," by Allston, 194, 318. 
" Spenser," picture from, by Allston, 161. 
Stael, Mme. de, 365. 
Statues, costume in, 273 et seq. 
Story, W. W., his tribute to Allston, 388 et 

seq. ; his sonnet on Allston, 392, 393. See 

Letters. 
Stuart, 145, 336, 378. 
Sublime, The, 366. 
Sully, 238, 268. 
Sumner, Charles, 389. 
Sutherland, Duchess of, 349. 
Switzerland, Allston's impressions of, 58. 
"Sylphs of the Seasons," poem by All- 
ston, 399. 

Technique of Allston's Art, 181-2C3. 

Titian, 186, 187, 193, 366, 415. 

lt Troubadour, The," by Allston, 193, 272. 

Trumbull, Colonel, 145, 149. 

Turner, 153, 204. 

" Una in the Wood," by Allston, 392. 



Unknown American Artist. See Letters. 
" Uriel in the Sun," by Allston, 72, 73, 129, 
130, 131, 136, 349, 424. 

" Valentine, The," by Allston, 82. 

Vanderlyn, accompanies Allston to Paris, 
55; his " Marius " and "Ariadne," 57; 
compared with Allston, 58 ; recommend- 
ed by Allston to United States Govern- 
ment, 228, 237; employed by United 
States Government, 253. 

Van Dyck, 13, 201, 354. 

Verplanck, G. C, his "Historical Dis- 
course," 148 ; his literary plans, 150 ; his 
" Evidences of Revealed Religion," 215 ; 
his position at Washington, 228. See 
Letters. 

" Virgin and Child," by Allston, 121, 124, 
145. 

" Vision of Ezekiel," by Raphael, 60. 

" Vision of Judgment," by Southey, 368. 

" Walking a Good Stick," 24. 

Washington, George, statue of, by Green- 
ough, 272 et seq. ; commemoration poem 
on, by Allston, 26, 27. 

Washington, correspondence concerning 
paintings for Capitol, 228, 287, 290. 

West, Allston's opinion of, 38, 43, 223, 
312; his illness, 153, 155, 158; his por- 
trait by Lawrence, 169 ; his ' k Death on 
the Pale Horse," 44, 122; his theory of 
color in background, 190 ; his sketch of 
" Prometheus," 317, 423. 

Wilkie, Sir David, 147, 152, 163, 169. 

Willes, 162. 

Wordsworth, William, his opinion of All- 
ston's portrait of Coleridge, 107 ; his 
poem composed upon an evening of ex- 
traordinary splendor and beauty, 133, 
134 ; visit to, by Collins, 141 ; his poem, 
"Peter Bell," 156; his tribute to All- 
ston, 369, 370. See Letters. 



311-77 



; 



Blilii 

J 021 183 im n| 



